TABLE OF CONTENTS
J. D. Guse
J . D . Gus e
J. D. Guse
J. D. Guse
J. D. Guse
.t -..■:,-> ;i Cofbeman
Plot Sub-Plot 1
Card XVIII: La Lune 2
Screw Conformity. ....
Even If You Do Have the Money, Honey
Stop Or I'll Shoe
Of Sodom and Gomorrah ....... 3
Moonlight Madness ... 4
Sometimes at night . 5
A Tour of Crianna
The Boundaries of the Flesh 6
In the Green Meadow ..... 8
I'd Like to Tell a Story (Ballad) 9
Rhythmic Pulsations .
I Fall into the Sky of Her Blue Eyes
She Looks at Him in the Red Glow. ...... 10
Don't Tread on Red ........
When All the Pain Had Ended
Love Fell Over and Broke Itself
A Story About Passin' On 11
Get Out on the Highway 12
Diffused and Haloed Glow Behind Her Hair. . .
The Cocktail Hour 13
Desolate . .
Bunnies Bunnies Everywhere. ... 15
Empty Dawns •
Small Chances 16
The Pen is Mightier 17
My Beautiful Friend ..... l8
To Tell A Lie
Ode to a Wooleyworm .....19
Kline's Kolumn ••
Wild Blue Horizons .20
Off the Beaten Path
Cult of Gods Beyond 21
The Christmas Gift 22
Swishi Swish'. 24
This Story Has No Title 25
NarPy, Wife of John
Flowing Rivers ..........
The Lodge ... 28
I'm Cat chin the First Bus Outta Here 29
Joy Ride 30
She Calls Collect 32
Strawberry Season ...
Nancy, Wife of John - II J>h
Yoga. . 35
This Child Need Her Father
What To Do?
It's Laundry-Roundup Time .......... 36
Small Advice 37
The Geese Make Lines in the Sunset Sky . . . kO
Poetry Pour Le Bain
Honk.y- Tonkin Rhythm , 4l
thwarted Writer (A Palindrome)
Ignorance Is Bliss
Homo Ferox 43
Hhevwood U.S. A 44
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Judy Bel field
Even If You Do Have the Money, Honey . . •
I have no time to spend on you today.
I've searched my empty pockets through and through
And cannot find a minute there for you.
Like lots of pennies lost along the way,
Grabbed up by strangers, stashed without delay,
The seconds dropped from holes too large and few
In secret places, worn, no longer new:
They're gone forever, now I cannot pay
The debt to you; I cannot pay, I say I
No time, too bad, no time, no time for you,
No dime, no nickel, Lincoln-head *r two.
I've spent or lost it all in foolish play,
Like wasting it by writing verse this way —
And I've no time to spend on you today.
Laura Lauth Janet Valek
Card XVIII: LaLune Screw Conformity
The ribbons in his hat are: Conformity prevents creativity
A. Yellow Conformity prevents flexibility
B. "-Blue Therefore insight does not come about.
C. Everything looks grey in the Conformity enforces rigidity •,
moonlight Rigid ss a nice, symmetrical cube. \
She is standing on: Why does everything have to be so neat,
A. a balcony Everything in its proper place?
B. her honor Why does one have to follow in order
The Lute player's dog is: in the nice, good, exact way
A. asleep One after another
B. merely dozing Bing
Can you find a crayfish in this picture? Bing
J(e 3ft IfC :?C ♦ T^T Y\ o*
Let one be messy, unconventional
^ Let one alone.
Let one go his own way.
Judy Bel field
Stop Or I'll Shoe
"I'm looking for the shoes of the fictionman," I said.
" These bonts are made for writing," said the salesclerk pointing to a display.
"Very Hemingway . . . good on safaris. Or how about these government issues —
sort of Norman Maileresque?"
"Too heavy," I said.
"Then the Zane Greys are out too, I guess?"
"Yeah, too confining. What kind of sandals do you have?"
"Well, now, let's see," he said. "We have the increasingly popular Bible
"We have the Roman variety, ala Caesar."
"I don't speak Latin."
"There are these strappy Jacqueline Suzannes ..."
"And here are some Jerry Rubins."
"What about slippers," he asked. "We have some lovely Cinderella Glass . • ."
"I c m too old."
"And L. Frank Baura Rubies ..."
"Well, there's the Sherlock Holmes zippered slipper • . ."
"I'm not into drugs."
"And the W. Clement Moore, pair. ■ — good for slipping into when you hoar rx>\&&&
on the roof."
Stop Or I'll Shoe (cont'd)
"How about high heels?" he asked, .
"Maybe . . • what've you got?"
"We have a pair of red spikes — "
"Oh? Sadie Thompsons, huh? Hmmm . • .no . . .1 can't really • • .too cheap."
"What about black patent leather?"
"We have Erica Jongs, Gail Parents, Harold fiobbinses and Judy Blumes on sale."
"Too shallow ... I was looking for something more substantial."
"Hmmm •>--• .How about Steinbeck loafers?"
"Too big. They'd never fit."
"Too ragged and worn."
"We have some black suede Poes."
"I guess that automatically discounts the Bram Stokers, then?"
"Oh, yes, definitely!"
"What about Cooper mocassins?"
"And take the last pair?"
"Scarlet Letter Step-ins?" ■
• "Too embarrassing."
"Mark Twain Clodhoppers?"
"They smell like the river."
"Agatha Christie wingtips?"
"I never could figure them out."
"War and Peace Buskins?"
"Too complicated." .
"We have a special on Tom Robbins Silver-Sparkled Fantasies."
"They're not sensible."
"Michael Moorcocks' s Oxford, oft^e future?"
"C'mon now, who'd believe them?"
"Well . . .That about exhausts our inventory. You might try one of our
branch stores . • .We do have a line of philosophical wedgies, political platforms
and stream of consciousness sneakers coming. in soon. You might want to try
back in a week or so."
"I think I'll do that," I said as I walked barefoot out of the store.
Of Sodom and Gomorrah
The Lord saw Lot lying in the gutter and sent
two Angels to his home. When the people of Sodom
and Gomorrah heard of this, they grew jealous and
wanted Angels of their own. They went to Lot's
home and asked him to share his Angels, but Lot
said, "Go find your own." The Sodomites and the
Gomorron's did not know how to find their o\jn Angels,
and drew near to break down the door. Lr> and behold,
Lot had been given a can of mace and sprayed it in
their eyes whenever they came too close.
The Angels went back to Heaven and told the
Lord, "You better get Lot out of there or the
descendant of Abraham will be beaten to a pulp."
God remembered the times he had tormented
Abraham and decided to save Lot, so there might
be some kin of Abraham left to torment.
The Angels returned to Lot and told him to
crawl under a rock. Lot said, "I will surely
perish along with the rest under the rock. Can
not I go to the next town? It's just a little
town. Oh please, please, let me go there." The
Angels said, "Stop whining and go before we change
our minds about you,"
. After Lot and all his kin bad left, . the .Lord
pam& ,dt?wn to <le&$;xx*y .the towns* He poured fire
Of Sodom and Gomorrah (cont'd)
down on the lands and stunk up the air with the scent
of sulfur. The smell was so awful that Lot's wife turned
to see where the smell was coming from and became
a pillar of solid room deodorizer.
Lot and his kin entered the little town. The
town' s people would not have Lot there, however, after
they found out he was responsible for the destruc-
tion of the best houses of begatting in the land.
Lot and what was left of his kin — two thirteen-
year-olds he had never seen before — went up to the
hills to live. There they found a cave and moved
into it, hoping to start a little Sodom and Gomorrah
of their own.
As the old grandfather clock struck
midnight, silence had once again fallen
upon the Martin house. The upstairs
hallway was darkened, save for a sliver of
moonlight that bounced off the hardwood
floor as it reflected along the hall's
The minutes ticked away, as the moon
climbed higher and the light shone bright-
er. Silently, the moonlight crept under
the doorway, entering the room of the
youngest Martin child. It crawled along
the baseboard, winding its way around the
room, until it terminated in Brian's
Yawning, the little boy sat up in
bed and attempted to wipe the light from
his eyes. His red curls shone golden
and his face appeared confused with all
the integrity that an eight-year-old
could muster, after being aroused from a
sound sleep. Brian blinked his eyes three
times before he adjusted to the bright-
The rest of the room remained dark.
Slowly, silently, the light crept from
the boy's f^ce as it moved downward.
A toy train was snoozing in its
track alongside the boy's bed. As the
light approached the train station, the
train began to move. Small puffs of smoke
blew into the air, and a loud blast from
the engine broke the silent stillness of
the night. The train circled the track,
sending up tiny smoke clouds and sound-
ing its whistle at every curve. As the
train picked up speed, a strange thing
happened. The tracks separated and
branched off in all directions as they
filled the room. They climbed steep
mountains that rose up the side of one
wall, then descended the next. They ran
through a long tunnel under the boy's
bed, finally crossing a river of moon-
light that ran alongside the station.
As the little engine approached the end
of the bridge, it gave one long, shrill
blast and jolted to a stop.
The river of light crept acro«i fejfoe
floor and climbed np the toy shelf in
fch-e^ ocLCix&x'm A big j?ed Knl 1 e.nme a.1"K*"e,
as the light was centered upon it. The
ball jumped down to the floor, bouncing
across the room, moving higher and high-
er with each step.
The little boy's eyes were fixed in
shocked expression and his mouth hung open
in awe. Not a sound was uttered. The
ball was bouncing as high now that it
touched the ceiling. It made its way
around the room and back to its spot on
the toy shelf. The shelves grew dark as
the light retracted and moved back to the
The moonlight iiad provided quite a
show for its young audience, and the show
was not over yet. The light moved. back
across the floor, past the train, now
fast asleep at the station. It moved up
the side of the blue quilt that draped
the boy's bed. It focused in on some- ""—
thing now — some sort of lettering. The
words were being projected onto the wall
in front of the bed. THE EMPIRE STRIKES
BACK flickered like a giant marquee on
the ball. As if by magic, Princess Leah
and Luke stepped from the quilt and danced
their way merrily across the bed. In an
instant, the room had come alive with the
characters on the quilt.
Chubakka and R2D2 exploded laser
cannons, while Ben Kenobi regulated the
tractor beam. And, off in the corner of
the room, Han Solo narrowly escaped through
a trap door as Darth Vader pursued him.
The clock in the hall struck four
now, indicating that the show had gone
on long enough. The light had grown dim-
mer now as the moon slid lower into the
western sky. Just as quickly as the show
had begun, it was over. One by one, each
character climbed back into his respec-
tive place on the quilt. The marquee
flickered one last time and went outl
Brian yawned loudly and slid back onto
his pillow. Within a few seconds, he
was fast asleep.
All was well in the Martin house as
the sun came up that morning. The seventh
bell on the deck bxwght Mytsu K-u v tin
Rfc.-iK-ry.t Jig liohfil the hall*
"Brian. Rise and shine.
to get ready for school," she called as Brian bolted upright in his bed, his
she opened the bedroom door. oy&<=> «.■? ^g =>s flyins ©aucers.
"How did you sloop ] a.st night, son?" "horn, I had th- best dream last night i !
Judy Bel field
Sometimes at Night
Sometimes at night
when it' s foggy
I become a shadowy vapor:
Where I begin
and where the mist ends
is a mystery.
The droplets of drizzle and I are inseparable:
We hang suspended under streetlights
twinkling like tiny mirrors;
We dance on green/black leaves in a moonless night
glazing the treetops
with sprays of transparent paint;
We glide grayly through a velvet haze,
lazily shimmering in pockets and folds
■ of the translucent air.
Sometimes at night
when it's foggy,
I'm an illusion
and evaporates into nullity
and I only seem to be real.
A Tour of Crianna
Gray suns rise on a mercury sea,
Plutonium gas bubbles burst
Gey sera blister the uncharted land
And I was the one here first.
What wondrous planet is this, you ask?
Where did I find this Nirvana?
Relax — I will tell you all I know:
This is the planet Crianna.
Crianna, you say — just where is that?
Well, the truth is, nobody knows.
It is a place reserved just for me
Where imagination grows.
Do you see those monsters? Don't be scared!
They are only papier-mache.
Weird things are found, if you'll follow me,
Come J Let's be on our wayl
Those pale blue fish in the mercury
They are really not fish at all
They're enormous rats who breathe through straws,
Made hundreds of thousands feet tall.
A little strange do you think? Maybe.
But look in these deep, endless vats.
You see nothing! Oh, come now, look close
Yes! Gigantic purple tom-cats.
Snakes under our feet, writing in sand,
Plastic bats overhead,
Three-eyed rhinos, myopic giraffes,
And lizard skins already shed.
These are the things that make up this world,
It's hard for a mortal to face,
But, then of course, you have to admit
Crianna 's a super-new place.
The Boundaries of the Flesh
He had been sitting motionless for
hours. „He was lonely again. He thought
of watching the video or taking a drug:,
such as Dio or EFFE, which always seemed
to help. He decided on the video, and
flipped it on. Its soothing effect
seemed to do the trick. He flipped to
the three dimensional setting, and the
compartment came alive with holograms.
He felt like acting along with the lead-
ing man and he did so by -stepping in and
out of the actor's image as it performed.
The film was old and was made in the
spiral galaxy of Catrin. These sometimes
erotic "but exquisite films were his fa-
vorites. The film was several hours long,
and after six hours, the old, nagging
thought of time entereH his mind.
He should have been keeping track^
but he had let several years pass by
without making a single log entry.
"I've been a mapper for the Insti-
tute of Planetary Studies for 1,100 years,
he thought, and I still can't keep a de-
He knew he had be*n in space some-
where between 790 and 800 years, and his
destination had been estimated at being
800 years away. It was a clouded region
that was so dense, the true readings of
the opposite side seemed impossible. He
pondered on this a moment and decided it
might be a good idea to brush up on Ne-
bulos and other gaseous cloud forms. The
log needed to be straightened out too,
however, and that really did take priori-
ty. He directed a signal to the closest
home port for the correct date. Of course,
his distance out in deep space would
cause a few hours delay in a signal re-
sponse. He left the compartment with the
video film still playing and walked to the
ship's well-stocked library.
He was an explorer a -^ h ear t, and even
on a long mission like this, he still en-
joyed his work. His grandfather's fath-
er's father's f a ther was in his late se-
venties, and had always been in Dontares'
memory. " Dontares was in his mid-twenties, -
as most all numans he knew, There were
only a few elders. He respected them,
and was proud to have an ancestry he
could trace right to an elder. Not many
There was a sudden commotion on one
of tie monitors. It was the homeport. It
was technician, Tines Lesto.
"How you doing, Dontares old b oy?"
he blared over the ■
Dontares directed his attention to
the distraction and went to flip to three
dimensional, but then decided to leave
the overbearing Lesto in the monitor.
"So, you've lost count again, have
you Dontares?" the "px boomed.
"Yes," was his irritated reply.
"Yes," Lesto echoed bad, " yes? . Is
that all a man has to say after . . . how
long has it been?" He thumbed through his
log, "200 years of uninterrupted space
"I had no idea, sir . . ." Dontares
began, but was cut short by Lesto.
• "Boy, you've got to keep track. You'r^
very near your destination, if all read-
ings are correct."
"I am sir," he replied excitedly.
"Are you doubting the Time Technician's
"No sir I I mean . . .," he was once
more interrupted by Lesto,
"Get your log out, boy. There's alread
some other lost soul on the receiver."
Dontares copied in the previous years
coordinates, and Lesto made him promise,
in his unrelenting fashion, a visit if he
was ever in that vicinity. Dontares, how-
ever, had no intention of ever meeting
Lesto face to face.
The excitement of nearing his destina-
tion once more overcame him. He ran to
the computer telescope and began to fill ir
the required data f«r a description of the
"There she isi" he said, as the picture
formed on the monitor.
He moved over to the manual telescope,
pulled it down, and searched the vastness
of space for the cloud.
"Still too far," he muttered.
He went back to the computer and filled
in the coordinates for time to physical
"126 days, four hours, thirteen min-
utes, >and ten seconds," the computer crack-
Great, he thought. Now all I need to
do is brush up on Nebulas, get the necess-
ary equipment ready, and I'll be all set.
As the days grew closer, Dontares'
excitement mounted. He very near depleted
his supply of drugs and at one time he had
every video image possible going at the
same time. This caused the ship to swarm-
ing with life, instead of containing only
one man. Things had pretty much settled
down by the end of the 126th day, and he
had set all monitors on the strange land.
"I see it, I see it I" he exclaimed as
it came into focus.
It was actually quite different from Wie-
the computer had read put. Dontares, how-
ever, was used to this, since computer map-
outs were only estimates anyway,
He began to lock in the computer coor-
dinates on the great cloud, but then
changed his mind. No, he thought,, if any-
one is going to take credit for a new dis-
covery, it's going to be me, and the only
way to insure that is to take on full re-
sponsibility. That way, all information
on the cloud will have to be received per-
sonally from me .
This is a job for Betsy, he thought.
"Ohh, Betsy," he called out.
Betsy's voice answered sweetly, "I am
Boundaries of the Flesh (cont'd)
The five feet high, three feet wide ble gates whose pillars disappeared into
mobile computer rolled in. the clouds. Beyond the gates, was a city
"Betsy, lock in your coordinates with whose splendor surpassed magnificence,
the ship's censors. You're taking over At first, Dontares could only stare at the
this part of the mission."
"Yes, Dontares dear," she replied.
'^Betsy, ■ this is it. We are finally
going to make history," he said, as if
talking to an old friend.
"Yes, Dontares," she said, as she
locked into the ship's censors and began
analyzing the data.
"This is strange," she said. "There
is an area of the cloud that is highly ha-
bitable, but there is no reading of life,
human or. alien."
"You say there is a habitable area?"
"Yes, it's not a true planet, moon,
or other body. My computer readout can
only judge it as an area."
Dontares toyed with the idea of put-
ting the mission back on the ship's com-
puter, but then asked, "Can you get an
exact reading of this area?"
".Reading of cloud area: atmosphere;
nitrogen, oxygen, water vapor, and other
trace gasses. Surface: crustal rock, as
on planets with this type of atmosphere,
except, this is odd, the soil is complete-
"Try to get a reading behind the
cloud," he said.
"Negative, it seems as though there
is a linear pattern of emptiness behind
the cloud. There is nothing to take a
-reading off of."
"No wonder," Dontares said knowing-
Linear patterns were rare and almost
solid white structures. He marveled at the
fine workmanship, the intricate patterns,
and the grandeur of it all.
Never in all the grand cities of De-
marro has anything such as this been con-
structed, he thought.
He became aware of his own breathing,
and realized the total silence of the city.
Dontares proc§ed.ed to enter the city's tre-
mendous gates. The only sound to be heard
was -the echo of his own foot-steps. The
area could have been for human existance,
he thought, but he doubted if it could
have been built by huraan s 8 He chose to
walk an endless path of white ribbon, which
seemed to lead to the heart of the city.
Along the way, he passed many fine statues
with what seemed to be written inscriptions
on them. The garb of these statues and
these inscriptions might be able to be ana-
lyzed, he thought. He signaled Betsy in
(What type of analysis do you get from
all this, Betsy?)
(You're just going to have to give me
a moment, Dontares . . .still checking . . .
This is going to take some time. It seems
to be a very ancient find and I could have
to run across billions of years.)
(I want to stay down here awhile any-
way. Signal me when you find something.
I won't be going anywhere. )
He proceeded on his quest once more.
The buildings he passed were becoming lar-
ger and more numerous. He studied them.
impossible to detect , unless you were able They were actually great halls flanked by
to get right to the mouth of one.
"Well, I guess that explains one of
the mysteries, and creates another. I am
going down to the surface, Betsy, prepare
"Yes, Dontares," she replied, and
they both went down to the docking area.
As she prepared the craft, Dontares
studied the extent of the cloud's area.
It was massive.
"Your craft is ready," she stated.
He boarded the vessel, set the des-
tination coordinates and departed. As he
neared the cloud, his visibility became
zero. He kept in touch with Betsy tele-
(How am I doing, Betsy?)
(You're right on target.)
immense pillars. He could only guess at
their use. He entered one of them. From
the outside, the hall was gigantic, but on
the inside, it seemed boundless. His eyes
surveyed the majesty of the hall. The ceil-
ing was filled with fluffy, white clouds,
and a silvery violet sky with a full moon
shining through the clouds. His eyes
dropped to the floor, which seemed to gen-
erate the brightness of the hall. It was
a transparent white that gave him the feel-
ing of buoyancy as if walking on a still
pool of water. This place was a paradise,
he thought. A great white paradise. He
thought of the value of his find to the
Institute of Planetary Exploration, and
to himself. His thoughts raced.
I could make this become a profitable
Her familiar voice in his mind calmed paradise, after all, it's only 800 years
his nerves a bit.
(Dontares, you're about 200 feet
above the surface of the area.)
"0K. I am bringing her down here"
he said aloud, a little startled at the
sound of his own voice.
from the Sumetra Galaxy, and surely,
people would pay much to visit, let alone
study a ready-made paradise such as this.
"Dontares, your ship has finally come
in," he said aloud. The words echoed throng'
the hall. He laughed a bit. This ceu'-d
The ship landed gently, as it cruised make me richer than any Grand Tnvrn on all
along the surface. The hiss of the engine the planets of Sura, he thought;. He was
quieted and Dontares climbed out. He i utevz-uptcj. by Betsy's familiar voice.
Could jpot believe what he saw. P.ir.vM.r (Dontares, 1 think I've come up with
■i •> Cvx^ist. <*i ixim /f.v<«7 ixam&xt&e \,int.c mar— something.)
Boundaries of the Flesh (cont'd)
(What is it?)
(Well, it dates back very far. In
fact, it's religious in nature.)
Religious, Dontares thought. There
hasn't been any talk of religion since • <
since the time before the elders.
Betsy continued. (I have come across
several books that all refer to the area.
Shall I have them materialize down?)
(By all means. )
to allow this discourse."
"This is heaven?" Dontares asked.
"Yes, many have called it by that name.'
"Why . . . why is it forgotten. What
"Dontares, when mankind was young, very
young, his flesh was as mortal as that of
lesser animals. Man and nature changed
him. Gradually, life was extended to the
In seconds, a small pile of books ap- infinity it has reached."
peared at his feet. Elders . . . religion
how can any of this have anything to do
with this place? he wondered as he lifted
one of the books. He read the title:
The New Catholic Version, Holy Bible . He
read another. The King James Version ,
Holy Bible, and another, H oly Bible, l la -
sonic Edition . He was totally unfamiliar.
with religion such as this and began to
leaf through one of the 'Bibles. The first
passage caught his attention.
He read aloud. "In the beginning,
God created the heavens and the earth."
Earth, he thought, why did that seem
so familiar to him. Intrigued, he sat
on the floor of the hall and beganto read
the Old Testament. He didn't know what
"And what of earth," he asked.
"The earth was man's cradle. It was
a harsh place with many barriers to be
conquered. On earth, man's flesh died
easily from sickness, famine and his own
cruelty. His reward, or better, his spi-
rit's reward, was here. Once he had
passed through the boundaries of the flesh
he was given everlasting life.
"Men, such as yourself, no longer have
a use for heaven. The fact that man be-
came immortal at the same time of the ea **th
natural destruction by its own sun was
more than coincidental."
Dontares listened intently.
"Man has become the equal to his spi-
rit." He has, in fact, bettered it. You
to make of it all. Why had he never heard are not unlike one of heaven's own angels,
of this storybefore? He read the New "Dontares, you must go. Send no men
Testament in hopes of better under standing. here. The many spirits must live in
peace. It is their right. Man has
no use for heaven and heaven has no use
for man. You must build your own heavens,
you have the capabilities."
"Others will come this way," Dontares
For a long while after finishingthe
book, he sat and thought. He tried to
piece the fantasy story and the very real
heaven together. He knew the story had
been originated for men who were not yet
evolved enough to use their power for ever said.
lasting life. He figured, when man died "Yes," said the voice. "We will tell
physically, his everlasting spirit, as the them what we have told you."
book called it, still existed and went to The voice was more than a voice, Don-
heaven for all eternity. But how can this tares realized. It was a voice that could
be so, he thought. I'd better jet back only be obeyed
to the ship and look this up myself.
He got up and left the hall. He had
only walked a few feet when he heard a :
faint humming sound.
"Betsy, is that you," he whispered.
The humming grew louder. He looked
up into the sky and saw a faint light
traveling toward him. He stood, frozen
with fear and curiosity. The light en-
compassed him and the humming ceased.
"Dontares, we have been expecting
you," a melodious voice called out.
Dontares swallowed hard and asked,
"■Jho are you?"
"I have many names," was the answer.
"Oh," Dontares uttered. He grew
more self-assured. "Won't you tell me
"You are a wise man, Dontares,"
"Thank you." He was beginning to
wonder if he was ever going to get a
straight answer from this . • .entity.
"Please," Dontares asked, "what hap-
pened to everyone here?"
"There are many, many spirits here,
Dontares." Dontares sol.f-ivm-oieusl.y
looked around himself.
"We are invisible to you. It has
taken the combined, energies of millions
"I understand you," was all Dontares
could say. It was all that needed to be
With that, the voice disappeared, and
the light returned into the sky.
Dontares slowly walked back to the
Solocraft. jje \ znevr he had to leave, but
he was reluctant to do so. It was so j
beautiful that he could not help but feel
jealous. He started to get into his craft.
He wondered about the men of earth. Had
they truly been lesser than he? After
all, had they not surpassed the boundaries
of the flesh, thus enabling them to live
for all eternity in heaven?
(Betsy, I'm coming home.)
In The Green Meadow
In the green meadow
There is only one shade tree
With its big green leaves
Hiding the birds in their nests
A -id the small boy under it.
I'd Like to Tell a Story
I'd like to tell a story
Of a friend who had to flee
When asked a fatal question
She left the nunnery.
To fill her father's final wish
She joined, put on the veil,
A cloistered order of singing nuns
She played piano, and grew pale.
They got her up at dawn each day
And off to pray she'd trudge
A nineteen-year-old broken hearted
Holy Ghostly married drudge.
She scrubbed the dishes, pots and pans,
And tried in desperation
To hide the swea upon her brow —
They said she could teach music
But she needed a degree
Off she went full time to college
"Get done quickly," the decree.
The cloistered years had made her shy
She kept her eyes downcast
And didn't see the longing gaze
Of the young man in her class.
For months he watched her every move
His gaze became a stare
Until one day he blurted out
"What color is your hair?"
Her habit felt like prison garb
She refused her final vow
Put down her veil, rejoined the world
She's a cocktail waitress now.
J. D. Guse
for girls in
Pendulating walks thru
Love thy neighbor.
Know thy stranger.
(in the Biblical sense?)
with thoughts of
for girls in
Judy Bel field.
pervade every nerve
and a throbbing drumbeat heat
seizes my senses.
I am slave
to an incandescent cadence
that thrums and rumbles inside,
repeating itself again and again,
restraining reason in an iron prison
and hammers at my loins
with relentless determination
And I am crazed
by the demon captor
who stands by and gloats
as I plead for release.
Michael A. Stillman
I Fall into the Sky of Her Blue Eyes
I fall into the sky of her blue eyes
I see a silent orb begin to spin
My currents throb in electric surprise
Can I land my life, let this journey end
Watching, willing, waiting, strapped to the floor
"Periscope Promise," computer explains
Shooting premonition: turn off, ignore;
Caution to the wind, all fuel to the flame J
Some men learn by the light of the fire
The rest must learn by the scar of the burn
Her desert planet scorned my desire,
To the cold empty space I must return
How can I forgive the wide-eyed wonder
How can I forget the burning thunder
Judy „ei field
She Looks at Him in the Red Glow
She looks at him in the red glow
of a painted flourescent bulb
and the music of a thousand violins
plays its straining, longing notes
whore slick and glistening secrets gurgle.
She studies his softly tinted scarlet skin,
his squinting, sparkling eyes —
and she touches his cheek
with the featherfingers of her mind.
as a trembling nerve quivers in her thigh'
and aches in waves
Whispering words reverberate in her veins —
words of greedy need she never speaks
but feels them charge unceasing through her bloo£.
And she closes her eyes,
and tries to think of baseball
Don't Tread on Re A .
Like a stoplight,
the red shirt said,
"Do not proceed."
And I pleaded —
interceded for Reason
against the foe.
"Heed the oommand of red,"
and I oonveyed the message to the fiond
hut th* domon plugged his ears,
stuck out his tongue
"I will lust
after any chest I please."
And all the while
the blaring scarlet screamed,
"Flaming desire I
Love foil over and Jiroke itself
Love fell over and broke itself
into four pieces
It fell off a mountain
onto the floor of my room
to look at me
with a surprised look
so I picked it up
wishirig.it never existed.
When All the Pain had Ended
When all the pain had ended
and I began to see some faults,
I felt uneasy because he wasn't perfect —
be and I had thought he was.
Then, for a while,
I thought I'd never really loved him
even though I'd had all the classic symptoms
an* I began — again — to wonder
just what i_s level Had I felt it?
Much later, he touched me with a word and I knew:
Yes, whatever love is, I'd felt it,
and no, it doesn't die — it changes,
maybe for the hotter,
because now I see his imperfections
leut I also still ^ee what it whs I loved him for
and it isn't blinding any more.
A Story About Passin' On
She poked the child in his fat little
rump with the tip of her cane, as he
backed into range of her. He squealed.
The "Old One," that he had managed to
avoid so adroitly all day had actually
touched him. His little face was livid
with indignation as he spun around to
face her. "Stop it," he said, resting
his dimpled hands on his hips.
Everyone gathered there responded
with chuckles of admiration. They'd all
been poked with that cane at one time or
another but had never dared tell the old
lady to "Stop it." They were surprised
though to see him grin and inch toward
her obviously hoping for a second poke.
They saw the expectant twinkle in
his eyes fade as she spoke. "My Grampa
Johnson used to poke me with this very
cane. Warn't no bigger than that little
fella right there." She poked at, but
missed her quick little target. He gig-
gled and pranced back and forth in front
of herl "He'd corner me under Gramma's
bed and poke at me when my Dad wasn't
looking That was 9^ years ago when the
old lady was dyin' . Funny that I should
think about her dyin' just now. Anyhow
she had two of her granddaughter's
stayin' with her on the farm. They
weren't sisters. They were cousins to
each other though." She paused, resting
her chin on the head of the cane. "Fun-
ny, I can't even remember their names.
Anyway, they got into a fight and the old
lady accidently fell backwards down the
basement steps tryin' to put a stop to
it. Fell all the way to the bottom.
Hurt real bad inside. Everyday, my dad
would put me on his shoulders and we f d
go across the creek, up the hill to the
big house to visit with the old lady.
Like I said, she was dyin' . Yeah, and
Grampa would torment me with this cane."
She twirled it in the air over her
head. "When I'd see iiim comin' , I'd
crawl under Gramma's bed to get away
from him, but i\rhenever my dad wasn't
lookin' the old man would poke me with
the cane. He never talked. He just
poked and poked and poked." She jabbed
the 'cane in the air above the child every
time she said "poked." He squealed with
delight and taunted her, "Ha ha ha, you
can't get me," as he inched closer to
She smiled. The child looked at her
amazed. "Where* re your teeth, Grandma?"
"You like Gramma's story, huh, little
one?" She smiled at him. He stared at
"The old man died of shock, 1 ' she con-
tinued. "He had carried one of Aunt India'
little boys down to the barnyard to see
the pigs bein' fed. He didn't take the
cane with him that day. Couldn't handle
the cane and carry the child. Anyhow, he
fell and the pigs tore up the child sorne-
tftin'' awful. They went for his stomach
and groin. Nearly severed his leg from
his body. Don't know how he survived,
but he did. Fathered a family too. They
tell me he turned out kind of queer in his
old age t no ugh. Anyhow, Grampa died two
days later from the shock of seein' what
happened to the boy and feelin' responsi-
ble for it, I suppose."
She jabbed the cane quickly into the
soft tummy of the three-year-old in front
of her. He grabbed the end of it and she
pulled him to her, hugged him, and before
she could plant a kiss on his cheek, he
ran off laughing to inspect the pantry.
She smiled as she watched him dis-
appear. "Little ones always seem to en-
joy that story," she said, as she hooked
the cane over the arm of her chair.
Judy Bel field
Show me the picture of the Other
and tell me what she's doing,
in/hat does she feel —
do you know?
do you care?
Let me look at her face again
so I can see my eyes
laughing back at me —
Those eyes don't fool me
with their smile:
I've seen them too often in the mirror
and there are tears welled up.
behind the green irises
waiting to spill.
Do you see them too?
Judy Bel field
Get Out on the Highway
I'm doin a nice, safe 55
on highway 55
an I see the sign that says
Jet. 80 - % mile.
I ddcide to take it
an no sooner do I enter
near the center
of the coast to coast linkup,
but I hear
come over the radio.
"Get your motor runnin,"
IT sings to me
and I step on the gas.
I'm goin 80 miles an hour now
an I don't care about cops
cause IT's blarin so loud
my speakers are cracklin,
an I'm "lookin for adventure
or whatever comes my way."
The wind is whippin my hair;
it's hot air that smells of exhaust and tires
an this crazy electric feelin
is chargin through my skin —
it's an anticipation of somethin,
an excitement I don't know how to handle —
an I wonder what I'm gonna do when the music ends,
I see a concrete abutment under an overpass
an it looks like a great place to explode.
"Splatter hair on the walls — "
echoes Perry Smith from hell:
Perry and Steppenwolf
got a hold of my soul right now
an I'm heedin the words.
"Fire alia your guns,"
the song says.
"We were born, born to be wild."
I scream with delicious glee,
my lunatic eye on gray cement
and my heart set on Hades.
I'm checkin out of the Earth Motel
an there aint gonna be a cell of me left
that aint ash.
Diffused and H a loed Glow Behind Her Hair
Diffused and haloed glow behind her hair
Eyes shine Love ligiit meaningful reflections
Slender neck arches graceful unaware
Hands laid quiet offer no rejections
Pinpoints gleaming diamond lace is shining
Subtle candle flame coloring the air
Velvet smooth peach skin silky lying
Photograph Lady's provocative stare
How much longer will she betoken beauty
Playful artiface becomes a duty
Painted lady, thin falsehood makes me tired
This made up masquei^ade has us mired
Tu superficialities, and lies.
The Cocktail Hour
Verbs, adjectives, prepositions and nouns,
Adverbs, conjunctions and all the pronouns
Together appeared and ordered some rounds
Preparing for a night on the town.
Apostrophe tittered with Dangling Modifier
And Comma was urged by Hyphen to got higher
Independent Clause cornered Simple Phrase
While Indefinite Antecedents merely lazed.
The -crowd grew loud, reason did flee:
Subject and Verb could not agree;
Transitive actives chased teasing - complement®
While abstract nouns relaxed in easy confidence
Style strode into the melee
Wrapping the room in gentility
Singular and Plural were arm-in-arm
And what remained of Grammar suffered no harm.
Judy Bel field
Sheila Malloy sat facing the glass-
doored east wall of a twenty-fifth- story
apartment on Lake Shore Drive. She was
watching the waves of Lake Michigan break
over the sandy beach below as she nursed
a martini she didn't really want.
Behind her, the spac:l us living room
was filled with voices, tinkling ice
cubes, soft music, and cigarette smoke.
"Great view, huh?" a deep voice said
near her ear. Sheila's body jerked, was
startled by the sound.
"Sorry if I jangled your thoughts,"
the voice said.
"No . . .no, it's okay," sb e answered
not turning to see who it was that spoke.
She was being rude, not acknowledging the
speaker this way, but she wished whoever
it was would just leave her alone.
"Mind if I sit here with you?"
"No," she said, minding very much.
Why couldn't she ever tell people to bug
off! She hadn't wanted her space invaded,
didn't want to talk, and now she'd be
forced to. A gangly pair of black- poly-
ester legs crossed in front of her and
placed tnemselves next to her on the
"The lake is so desolate looking in
the winter, isn't it?"
"Yeah," she answered snortly, still
not looking at him. "Desolate," she
thought, letting the word sit on her mind
and bleed its shades of blue and purple
through ner imagination. She was" like
the lake, pushed and pulled by forces be-
yond her control, crashed on the shore,
wnipped into frenzy and ultimately left
"Barryi" a male voice boomed in on
her thougnts. She looked around to see
Matt Shelby lean over the settee. "Barry
Fisherl Haven't seen you in ages. What
have you been up to?"
Barry Fisher, with the gangly legs,
stood and faced Matt, shook hands, ex-
changed greetings, et cetera. Their
voices blurred into the chit-chat and
prattle and ice-tinkling.
Barry's weathered-bronze face was
Poman-nosed and topped by a thick tous-
ling of dark blonde hair. All of his
features — eyes, jaw, cheekbones —
were pronounced and finely sculpted. His
eyes were blue and intense. Sheila noted
all this, trying not to get caught in the
act, but he saw her in the corner of an
intense blue eye as he talked distractedly
She fingered the red lace of her
dress, first at the knee-length hem, and
tnen at the bodice. She smoothed an ima-
ginary wrinkle in her Hanes, three-ninety-
eight, cinnamon- snade stockings, and
flicked a strand of deep brown hair from
her eye. Sne didn't like being stared at;
it made her nervous.
She stood up in her red, strappy,
satin high heeLs and stepped closer to
the window. He-r breath frosted the pane.
She needed some air. It was cold on the
balcony, she knew, but she had to get out
into the air. She pushed the glass door
slightly and stepped, outside. She heard
Barry's voice say, "Er r look Matt ...
I'll talk to you later, huh?" As she
pulled the door shut, his hand was on hers
and he stared into her near-black eyes.
"It's awfully cold out there. You'll
"I know," she said, freeing her hand
and walking out to the stone ledge.
"That dress can't be very warm."
"Look. I didn't ask yon ho come out
here after me and play mother. I don't
need somebody to take care of me."
"What do you need," he asked softly,
his face very close to hers. Sheila was
tempted to laugh, but his eyes stopped
her. They didn't have the telltale
leer she expected. He seemed concerned.
It wasn't a quality she often encoun-
tered, and she wasn't sure she liked it.
Now she had to say_ something, rather
than reel off a smart remark.
"I'd like to b© alone," she said
flatly. She turned to face the lake,
her arms crossed to hug her shoulders.
"I don't think you'd like that...
"Listen mister: You don't even
know my name and yet you stand there
trying to psychoanalize me. I said I'd
like to be left alone and I meant it —
"Okay, okay," he said, Talking
Sheila was ready to cry. She al-
Trays cried when anyone seemed genuinely
concerned about her — either cried or
laughed it off as sentimental slop. It
was not a. time to laugh. She stood on
the balcony shivering, not knowing why
she had come out. Ah, yes — for the
air. But she didn't really want air.
At least, she didn't want to freeze for
it. But here she was — trapped! She
couldn't go back inside, not yet anyway.
So she cried, streaked her black mascara
down her creamy white face and ruined
what she'd taken pains a few hours ago
to make up just so. "Desolate," that's
what he'd said. It was a good word.
She pulled a white linen hanky
from her red-beaded purse and dabbed
her cheeks. She had to leave. She'd
make some excuse to Waggie and go home.
She patted under her eyes with the
hanky, being careful not to smear too
badly, stuffed the black-stained cloth
into the bag and headed back into the
"Kaggie, I'm not feeling very well.
I think I'd better go."
"Sheila darling, is it anything
"No. I think I must be getting
the flu or something. "
"Would you like to lie down in the
guest room for a few minutes? I'll get
Jeff to drive you home."
"No — don't bother. I don't want
to spoil the party for Jeff. I can get
a cab. "
"Don't be silly, dear. Of course
Jeff will take you."
"Mo liaggie, please. Don't ask
him — listen, I'll go lie down for a
while and maybe I'll feel better."
"You can stay the night if you'd
like . »
"I'll see. I'll see how I feel.
Okay? Don't worry about me, please,"
"You're sure now — you don't want
me to get Jeff?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. I just need to
lie down for a x^hile. Don't leave your
guests, I knoitf where it is."
"All right dear. If you .need any-
thing, just call for me, okay?"
"Sure, sure. I'm sure I'll be all
right. 1'aybe it was just the drinks."
Sheila gently pulled herself away from
liaggie and started doxm the hallway to
"Sheila . . . Sheila Ualloy. " It
was Barry, clacking down the hall as
she mounted the steps.
"See? -Noxtf I know your name. Is
•it all right to psychoanalize you now?"
"Oh . . .I'm not feeling very
well ... do you mind if I don't talk
• ' "I mind. Of course I mind — what
is it? Catch a cold on the balcony?
Still want to be alone? Greta — Dar-
"Look Barry Fisher, I think I'm
going to throxtf up, and if you keep me
here any longer, I may have an accident
on this nice marble floor."
"Warble's easy to clean — "
Sheila grabbed her stomach xrith
one hand, clutched her mouth with the
other, and raced up the stairs to the
guest-room bath and slammed the door.
Barry was right behind her. He stood
outside the door listening to her retch.
"Are you okay? Are you okay?"
"Go away. Of course I'm not okay.
You heard me. puking didn't you? Go
away!" He opened the door a crack only
to have it slammed in his face.
"Get out!" she screamed. Barry
crossed the softly carpeted room to the
bed, inhere he sat, waiting . . .
After a x^hile, the door opened and
she stood in the frame looking at him.
She x-xas annoyed, but she saw that the
situation was hopeless: He just wasn't
going to leave. She didn't xrant to
create a scene, and anyxray, she didn't
have the energy.
"Gotta see that my patient's still
breathing. C'mere and let Doctor Fisher
take your pulse." Sheila dragged her-
self across the room and sat doxra next
to him on the bed.
"If I let you take my pulse, xri.ll
yo.u leave?: She offered her arm.
"Hmmm. Racing. Not good . . .
not good at all." He looked into her
face, pushed her hair back and caressed
her cheek. She loxrered her eyes and
turned her head.
"I suppose you xrant to get into
bed with me," she said, a note of
resignation in her voice.
"I'd love to . . . but only if you
xrant me to. "
"Want to catch the flu — or what-
ever it is I've got?"
"You don't have anything but a
touch of nerves, and yes, I'd like to
catch it very much."
"I'd say you have enough nerve for
both of us."
"You could say that. "
"I just did."
"You're not really sick, are you?"
"Your diagnoses are right on the
button, aren't they doctor?"
"l/here I'd like to be." They
laughed. While she was still laughing,
he began to kiss her shoulder, her neck,
crept closer to her face.
"Don't kiss me on the mouth — I
just threw up. "
"I don't care. "
"7ait, Barry, Don't—" But she
didn't care either . . .
Later, Barry slipped out from the
covers and started to dress. He
glanced over at Sheila's hair spread
over the yellow pillowcase. Sheila had
felt his every careful move, felt him
slowly inching out of bed.
"Don't leave me," she pleaded
silently, keeping her eyes closed.
"Please Barry, don't leave." But he
did, quietly clicking the door shut
She lay there numbly as morning
began to creep into the night sky. She
glanced at the clock on the bedside
table — four-twenty-two. Barry had
been gone nearly a half -hour. Barry
was gone, just like all the others.
They all left sooner or later. She'd
thought Barry was different, but he
wasn't. They were all alike. Oh, it
wasn't just men — people were all
alike. Everybody deserted her in time.
Nobody ever really cared; they some-
times said they did, but the words
xtfere hollow — she couldn't begin to
count the echoes of all the "caring"
people she never saw any more. 3ven
Haggle, with her superficial "dears"
and "darlings," would soon become an
echo of the past. She wouldn't like
it if she knew that Barry and Sheila
had gotten it on in her guest room.
"Liberal" Haggie wouldn't say anything,
of course, but Sheila would, not be cal-
led on the phone or invited to I ."aggie's
parties any more. That was okay with
Sheila: She wasn't comfortable around
Jeff anyway, since their affair had
ended — ] aggie would really be pissed
if she knew about that.
She thought about the long line of
people in her past and the array of
emptiness in her present. "'Jhat the
hell," she whispered, "I don't need
any of them" : -Ihat did she need?.
Barry had asked that -- when? It
seemed like years ago, when she
thought she had seen a caring sparkle
in his eyes.
She looked at the clock: Four-
thirty-six. Hell was an empty morn-
ing waiting for the numbers to tumble
on a digital clock. Hell was an empty
bedroom filled x^ith echoes of "I love
yous" and "Je cares."
Christmas x^as coming; it x-ras two
itfeeks away. Too close. Too empty.
She got up from the bed and slipped her
red lace dress over her head. Bare-
foot, she padded down the stairs,
through the cold marble-floored hall-
way, through the thickly carpeted liv-
ing room, to the sliding glass doors.
She looked back over the half -lit,
silent room. The ashtrays were full.
Glasses — empty, half-full, lipstick-
stained, and tipped over -- littered
the tables, the bookshelves, the mantel,
the floor. She eyed the beige settee,
slid open a door and walked outside.
If her feet were cold, she didn't no-
tice. The lake was washing in, grab-
bing the shoreline and trying to take
hold, losing its grasp and plunging-
back out to gray-green infinity.
"Desolate," Barry had said. "Like
me . . ." she thought, "like me . . ."
I oments later her red lace dress
lay crumpled on a concrete slab near
the sand of a sunless, snow- patched
beach. Splotches of red lay near her
body, very closely matched in color to
As her feet had left the ledge,
she thought for one split second that
she had heard someone call her name
. . . but it was too late.
Bunnies Bunnies mveryxirhere
How I love your furry faces
peering out from road side places
I observe you from a distance
as you run with mute persistance
I'm hooked on hares you see
rabbit-ites has bitten me
Old hearts often stop at dawn -
too sad and weary to go on.
Is there any valid reason,
so late in the season,
to make plans, to aspire,
to start the morning fire?
Tny break the spell of night
when morning gives a lonely light?
Cold, it is, the blood congeals,
and blankets hide what day reveals -
fingers, toes, and elbows, bent,
the energy of life all spent.
Shadows totter doxm the halls
to sit and stare at silent xralls.
They eat alone, they Thatch, they xrait,
for evening meal, for dusk, for fate.
And xtfho can blame old hearts at dawn,
too sad and weary to go on.
Jenny and Dart had been jogging
almost a mile in the cool i'innesota
countryside. The sloping road was
lined with leafed timber and rolling
hills, and the sun was finishing up its
day on this section of the earth, im-
parting a pinkish-yelloxr cast to all of
nature and the exposed skins of the two
Jlach found a comfortable stride
and rythym to fit the other woman and
the road. Jenny opened the conversa-
"Why didn't you tell me you were
an All-American, Dart? If I had known
I would have been chasing my husband
on his jogs instead of doing yoga for
the last six months."
"You never asked what I did in my
spare time since I moved out here. I
thought you T d rather read letters that
were filled with conquests of Ilinne-
sota lumberjacks and the growing pains
of a pottery studio rather than pulled
muscles and new jogging shoes."
Jenny gasped out a chuckle. "Hey,
I love to hear about whatever you're
doing — especially if it's slightly sin-
"Actually, if you'd been reading
between the lines in my letters," Dart
responded, "You'd know that the
closest I've come to sinning lately is
a daily liershey bar, which is one rea-
son I've taken up running. Really,
it's good to get out of the studio,
where I'm by myself almost all day,
and run and see the country a couple
times a week. "
Jenny cast a sideways look at her
friend as they ran on, working on the
second mile, legs and arms moving
easily, beautifully together. Dart had
let her reddish-brown hair grow be-
yond her shoulders, and it framed her
finely-chiseled face Jenny remembered .
so well from their college days. In
the ten years since they had gradua-
ted, she thought to herself, Dart's
face was the only one of all their
friends and acquaintances that re-
mained unlined and untroubled. Dart
labored, as they all did, but her life
had always seemed to Jenny to be far
more uncluttered and uncomplicated
than the corporate and scholastic pur-
suits many of their friends were im-
The deep glance she had given her
friend stimulated a wave of memories
in Jenny. She asked, "Do you remem-
ber how we met, Cart?" Her friend
turned her head as she ran and searched
Jen's eyes in puzzlement. Then she
smiled. "Hot only do I remember how
we met, I could almost give you the
verbatim conversation," she grinned,
"And I haven't even thought about it
since then. Talk about the old days,
when we were innocent. . .and whatnot.
Anyway, how long has it been since
we've seen each other?"
"Hell, we all had dinner last
Thanksgiving at jary's-you were there
for that, about six months ago, and be-
fore that, I think I saw you last at
Jan's wedding in New York. That xras
way over a year ago, huh?"
Dart smiled. "Yeah, you're right."
She turned again to look at Jenny.
"Gosh, we do go back a long ways." 3y
common, unspoken consent, they both in-
creased the length and quickness of
their strides. They were perspiring
freely now, and the sun seemed hotter
even though it xras descending.
After a few hundred more yards at
the increased pace, Dart slowed and re-
sumed the conversation. "I met you in
the bookstore the first day of classes
freshman year — you were looking at Eng-
lish novels and you had your class sche-
dule clutched in one hand and both arras
full of math and history course books.
God, I still wonder how you pulled a
double major in those two subjects — and
you dropped your schedule and couldn't
get it without dropping about twelve
books . "
Jenny laughed out loud. "Are you
kidding-I don't remember that at all."
".Jell, I do," Dart explained,
"Cause I remember later on when we got
to know each other that I often won-
dered at how wide your interests were,
and how you seemed so clever in school,
but you just couldn't keep track of pa-
pers or due dates, or get yourself or-
ganized at all. It was just like in
the bookstore-a genius, happy as a puppy
with new knowledge, but a bit screwy
about getting to the right place at the
right time." Dart knexr she was safe in
making this criticism in jest, and she
xras right. Jenny laughed in agreement,
and said, "Yeah, but that xras in the
old days. Now with a kid, and Jack,
and a job, I've turned into possibly
the most organized list-maker you've
ever seen. "
"Do you remember that night in
freshman year when xre all xvent to your
grandmother's wake?" Jenny asked. Dart
gave a strong nod instantly. "I can
remember that so clearly, " Jenny con-
tinued. For some reason, you and I
ended up driving back to school to-
gether in your car. I guess everyone
else had to leave early. Remember, xre
stopped for a drink, and just talked
and talked, about our families, and re-
ligion, and God-I think it all started
because your grandmother had a rosary
in her hands." Jenny sloired doxwi as
she recalled the evening many drears ago.
"You know, that xras when I first re-
alized just xtfhat a super person you
xre re . "
Dart smiled brightly. "The start
of a beautiful friendship." She slowed
her pace to a walk. "Boy, am I beat.
He must have done three miles, which
is about tx-ro over my limit. T dovi about
"I was hoping you'd say that,"
Jenny sighed. "I xras wondering if they
have pick-up services for joggers in-
jured during duty."
Snail Chances (cont'd)
The women slowed to a Walk; "The-
re's a great spot to watch the sunset
about a half-mile back," Dart offered.
"It's been years since I saw a sunset
without a building in front of it,"
Hot speaking, and each thinking
her own thoughts about experiences they
had shared, the women walked back until
they arrived at a grassy glen. They
sat on some convenient large rocks and
watched the sky change from blue to
pink to tomato red as the sun disappear-
ed behind the neighboring hills.
They spoke, as old friends some-
times do, not of the raucous and care-
free past, for its value now was only
that it had happened, but rather of the
everyday encounters and problems that
were now so different for each of them.
Jenny spoke of her three year old child
Kent and his comic antics and rapid
growth, her adoring but increasingly
work-consumed husband Jack, and her
newest batch of crazy friends at her
part-time job proof-reading for a news-
paper. She listened intently as Dart
related how the pottery studio was do-
ing, and how difficult it had been to
pay the rent for the first months'*
Dart told Jenny how, on frequent oc-
casions, she missed the challenge and
excitement of the city, but of how
peaceful her life had become since mov-
ing to the small Minnesota town and
setting up her studio:.
The women started to shiver in
the quickening breeze. They looked up
at the fragile pastel sky and realized
the sun had .disappeared entirely as
"Time to go back and maybe light
a fire," Dart said as she stood and
stretched. She leaned over and took
Jenny's arm to help her up. "You know,
Jen," Dart started in a strangely full
voice, "I very much meant what I said
about my being peaceful out here, but
-"our coming this weekend makes me hap-
pier than you'll ever know."
Jenny stood and looked at her
friend in mild surprise. Dart was star-
ing at her intently. "Gees, Dart, I
didn't know it meant that much... I
mean.. when Jack offered to take Kent
for a weekend in New York, you were
the first person I thought of. ".Thy
didn't you tell me you wanted to see
me? I had to invite myself out here 2"
Dart took a deep breath. "'Jell,
it seems our whole friendship-all those
jrears when we were really close-began
with just chance encounters and chance
shared interests, and we just seemed to
groove on them. I didn't want to tell
you how much I wanted to see you be-
cause..." Dart's voice dropped off,
and she rubbed her eyes hard with her
hands. She 'shrugged her shoulders and
squared them back, seeming to gather
herself for an effort. "I guess be-
cause I didn't want you to know how
much I really needed you." She looked
at her friend and smiled, relieved
that she had said those words. "And
because before, just rhrough chance, we
were so good together that I didn't
want to change it because I thought it
wouldn't work." Dart searched her
friend's eyes for a reaction. "How's
that for a psyched-out analysis?"
Jenny didn't respond: she simply
looked at her friend. Realizations
began to sweep over her-how their
friendship had all been chance, but how
real their feelings about each other
had grown to be. The love the two had
felt for each other years ago had never
been sought out by either-it had just
happened and grown Jrith shared experi-
ences, and been a part of their lives
they had taken for granted, even as
each had changed over the years. They
had, Jenny thought, grown increasingly
apart, as even the best of friends do
when visits become yearly instead of
daily. Now, with a start, Jenny rea-
lised that Dart was asking her to re-
new their friendship and love. Jenny's
own life was happily fulfilled now, and
she lived a thousand miles from these
hills and the isolated town where her
artist friend had come.
As if to reinforce her thoughts,
Jenny felt Dart's hand squeeze her
shoulder. "Hey," Dart said, "This is
tray too heavy— the heat's gone to ray
brain." She laughed, a trifle forced,
and added, "Let's go back to the home-
Jenny stood still and took her
friend's hand in both her own. "Dart,
you're right, and I apologize to you
for being too stupid to see what's hap-
pening. I've just understood what
you're getting at. lie just can't rely
on chance anymore for good friends and
happiness to drop cfut of the -sky. T -/e
just don't have that luxury."
Dart remained quiet, waiting for
Jenny to continue, but her friend did
not speak. She dropped her hand and
stared for a moment at the now dusky
sky which hinted at the presence of
Jenny gazed at the fine, strong,
independent features of Dart's face
that the world was witness to, and the
eyes that how intentionally conveyed
no feeling. Jenny crossed the small
distance that separated them in two
quick steps and embraced her friend
quickly, strongly, and released her.
"lion amie," she said, stepping back.
"How about that fire you promised?"
Dart cocked her head, smiled, and gave
up a chuckle that sounded like a song.
They crossed the glen to the road
and departed, running slowly, on their
$ 3JC $ 9& jj;
J. D. Guse
The pen is mightier
My Beautiful Friend
I just want to say thank you,
for picking me up when the
only way I saw to go, was
down . . .
for restoring ray faith in
life when I saw no reason to
go on. ..
for saying everything you've
ever said - without even
knowing my name.
You said these beautiful things
then you were gone.
Where did you go? - What were you
Four years later you show up.
I've missed you - your helping hand,
your magical words.
You've changed —
you seem to have lost all the
faith you showed me.
you seem cynical, pessimistic,
your words don't sound familiar.
You've changed— doesn't everybody?
What will never change is the past -
what you did for me.
And like I started to say before I
was taken by my emotions — thank you
My beautiful friend. . .Thank You.
To Tell A Lie
"Calling all liars. Calling all
liars," the megaphone warbled. Stuf-
fing the uneaten portion of a hotclog
into my saliva tomb, I left the con-
cession area and headed toward the
voice. The magnifying glass overhead
burnt the area; however, a colorful
breeze traveling through the carnival
atmosphere neutralized the heat's ef-
In the distance, more people
swarmed around the presentation plat-
form, and the amplified larynx con-
tinued, "Our last entries will begin
in just a few minutes and then we will
all find out who are this year's
'Worlds Greatest Liars'." From the
crowd, which was still forming through-
out the open area, arose a chuckling
cheer, ascending to block the mid day
sun. I lengthened my zebra trot so as
not to miss any of the action.
I was quite surprised to encounter
as many video crews as I did. The
yearly event always captured national
attention, bringing fleeting fame to
its small, raid-western, sponsoring
town, but this time it must have pulled
publicity in from all corners. I con-
sidered the coverage interesting and
contemplated their definition of news.
The country surroundings added to
the merryment. Booths of all varieties
scattered the landscape, and a pumpkin
umbrella enclosed a large expo arena
selling worthless tidbits. Jorthless to
the public, but of prized value to all
"It's really wonderful that the
initiator of this award came forward
and started this tradition fourty-five
years ago," the announcer added jokingly,
"I'm amazed someone didn't get the idea
sooner. People tell fibs every day."
Joining the lake of heads and hats,
I took his statement a bit more seri-
ously. Sure, I was as fun loving as the
rest of the people at this three day
"Falsehood Festival", but my attitude
toward the subject seemed more refined.
1 felt that most everyone did not rea-
lize the psychology behind lying; fur-
thermore, a strong sense of guilt ac-
companied the others approach. I had
once responded that way.
I think w/ greatest inspiration
came from a man I never met. Trygve
Lie, a Norwegian, and the first Secre-
tary General of the United Nations,
sparked the fire within me to go out in-
to the world and give it all that was in
me. Nothing in particular he said clear-
ed the filibuster in my mind. It was
just the combination of his name and the
work he was associated with. . .politics.
As the final few outlandish, out-
rageous, and indepth fibs continued to
be featured from the front of the make-
shift stage, my perception of the idea
widened. I mean if you are going to
tell a lie, make it a good one' I fig-
ured that lying is one of the few things
left to do which is neither illegal or
controlled. It is only controlled by
your own creativity, and only illegal
in the court room. I questioned the
With free religion allowing dis-
belief in the Bible, an oath of truth
is unreliable; on top of that, a lie de-
tector only records physiological phe-
nomena supposedly connected with lying:
abnormal respiration, perspiration, or
abnormal heartbeat. I would certainly
condole an unhealthy or athletic person
hooked up to one of those cardboard con-
Anxiously awaiting the results
from the festival's activities, I sur-
veyed. the assemblage. A splinter of
hope swept in front of me, for fortu-
nately, I realized that lying had be-
come more popular lately. Bach indi-
vidual, honing to gain recognition in
the category of their selection, muss
have some interpretation of fibbing fi-
nesse. From this remote location i."
Wisconsin, my competitors would return
to their respective homes across the
country. Some would participate in de-
ceptive business deals and corporate
lies; others to child rearing with the
Easier bunny and the tooth fair*'. The
To Tell A Lie (cont'd)
Kline's Kolumn (cont'd)
splinter grew into a giant redwood, and
a proud feeling of accomplishment burn-
ed within me.
"The first prize winner in the es-
say division of our awards this after-
noon, with the original selection 'If
you don't have enough nerve to equivo- '
cate, at least stretch the truth' is.."
The pause was no suspense builder
to me. I was totally taken aback when
I heard my title. I had received an
honorable mentidh a few years ago, but
I simply enjoyed^ participation. Step-
ping forward to ^accept the award , my
mind went blank. Gone were any philo-
sophical implications I could pass
along. I guess there was actually no
I proceeded in the jest of the
situation, "You know it really came as
no surprise to me that I won this award.
Not that I'm boastful. I was chatting
with Ireene Hughes yesterday in London,
and she told me the news from a vision
that came to her in a nightmare...."
* $ $ $ 3JC
Ode to a Jooleyworm
Fuzzy little fellas
'jest scrunchin 'cross the road,
North ones goin' South,
'n South ones goin' North,
warming furry bellies,
'n gettin' squished like jelly I
Hey, guys, I gotta tell ya -
there's weeds the same
one side 'er tfce other,
and them that hides
on leaf or stem
don't come to no grief -
so keep them stubby little feet
outta' the middle 'a the street i
>£ 5|« % * *
Some people disgust mel You know-
the one's who eat all the time and never
gain an ounce. Ily husband for instance-
three meals prepared for the Giant in
the castle at the top of Jack's Bean-
stalk and a hearty midnight snack
enough to feed the six hungry kids next
door, and still he maintains his neat
trim little body. And then-those people
who shrug their shoulder's and say
something like, "Desserts? No, I've
never been a sweet eater. That's one
thing I've just never cared for!"
Have you ever run into the raw vegetable
snacker? Now there's a person who real-
ly knows how to bring me down. And
then there's me. I eat the cookie
dough before it goes into the oven to
bake because I just can't wait any
longer and looking into a bakery window
adds 10 lbs. instantly! So what do you
do when you were born to crave sweets,
love food and insist on staying slim?
•Jell, you spend a lot of time dreaming,
little time eating and the remainder
In June, on the lalces of the
Quetico-Superior, the ffin shines throu?
the crisp air of northern Minnesota wit
an unexpected power. Mirrored by the
clean surface of clear waters flowing
north from the Lawrencian Divide, its
force is doubled. Striking face, neck
and hands from above as well as below,
it weathers everyone traveling within
its rein. The experienced look of
health and exposure come quickly as
the sun and wind do their work.
Flowing free to Hudson Bay and be-
yond, the waters are drawn from the up-
per reaches of Minnesota, north through
Ontario Province. Lined with fir and
birch, the deep lakes are strung out
along a great connecting waterway.
Lakes are linked one to another by
Whitewater runs, wide, deep channels
of fast flowing water, and cascading
falls. For canoe travelers moving .
north through this system of water and
sun, the routine of traveling from one
lake to another provides, welcome re-
lief from the crossfire of sun and its
As the bow of the aluminum canoe
began to slide iro onto the gravel shor
line, Nick and Bill each thrust back
from their seats to push the' canoe up
another few inches onto the rocks.
Nick lept ashore and pulled on the 17
foot craft which had brought him and
Bill up through the long series of
lakes and portages. Bill climbed out
and joined Nick as he pulled once more,
sliding the canoe up onto the shore.
The men irorked quickly to unload thei]
"'■Jhich do you want, Nick?"
"I'll take the canoe, then let-'s
come back for the rest."
After hoisting the canoe up over
his head and lowering its yoke to his
shoulders, Nick started down the trai.
with Bill walking in front guiding the
bow. Bill carried paddles and life
For Nick the portage was the las
push before a welcome rest. He knew
that the bumpy trail of rough ups and
downs would end with the splash of th..
canoe being pushed off his shoulders
onto the clear surface of the next la r
The canoe was heavy. Its weight presv
sed doxm hard on his jshoulde^rs. Nick
moved quickly along £he trail hoping tc
find the shoreline and relief over eac.'
rise in the trail.
"Then the bottom of the canoe
Quiet Crossfire (cont'd)
Quiet Crossfire (cont'd)
finally slapped the quiet surface at
the end of the portage Nick straightened
and felt the muscles at the back of his
neck recoil from the strain of carry-
ing the heavy load. Mick stopped a mo-
ment and gazed across the blue water.
"God, it's great here. Really
perfect." After another moment he con-
tinued, "The space just draws it all
right out of you.
"Things are simpler here too,"
said 'Nick, "when you're up here every-
thing back home stops. It's not there
xtfaiting for us; it ends. Up here
you T re so far away from it the rest of
it doesn't even exist anymore. Here
it's just trees, water and sun.
"You know, from here we could go
up through the Quetico into Ontario all
the way to Hudson Bay."
As Nick stood on the pebbled shore
he felt a slight movement of air off
the blue water against his now ruddy
face. "I've thought of this place a-
lot since vie were here last. It's a
touchstone for me. Nemories of the
water and sun of the Quetico-Superior
always remind me of other times we've
had: other places we've been. You
know Bill, we've seen a lot. The Bear-
tooth, the Absorka, the Nissions, Vail.
They were all good. Its always been
good. " Nick stood for a moment before
continuing, " r .7e should do it more often.
It really doesn't matter where we are.
It's always good."
Bill hesitated as both men watch-
ed a wind gust cross the water before
them; its path marked by a pattern of
small surface riffles. "You're right
Nick. It is good here."
As they turned to retrace their
steps Nick felt the absence of the
heavy canoe. His light tennis shoes
seemed to bound down the trail. The
path ran along a series of tumbling
"Coine on lets take a look," Nick
said as he broke from the trail and
cut over to the rushing stream. Bill
followed as Nick led the way through
the brush to the edge of the rapids.
Before them they saw huge volumes
of water pounding down the rocky chan-
nel which seoarated the two large
quiet lakes. The sounds of the falls
had been masked by the heavy growth
surrounding the narrow waterway.
Standing on the large flat rocks
above the chasm each felt the power of
the waves pulsing over the boulders be-
low. Nick watched as Bill stared in-
tently into the pool below the falls.
Bill stood far out on a large
rock, ./ind, blowing down the channel,
brought the cool spray of heavy mist.
Nearly hypnotised by the sound and mo-
tion, Bill watched the water pour in-
to the dark pool below. There, in that
cold deep hole where bubbles seemed to
take minutes to reach the surface, Bill
fixed his gaze.
Nick studied Bill as he stood mo-
tionle&s on the ed^c of the large out-
cropping. The deafening sound contin-
ued as the mist rose up from the cold
rushing water. ;Jhen the men finally
left the cool moist corridor neither
spoke. Soon they reached the place
where they had left their packs and
quickly gathered their gear for the trip
back up the trail to where they had
left the canoe.
"./hen they finally reached the canoe
they loaded the packs. The life jackets
and extra paddles were put under the
seats. Nick took his place in the boxtf.
Silently, Bill pushed off and the canoe
slipped quietly from the cool shade in-
to the unforgiving glare of the sun.
•%. ifc sj; £ >Jc
Jild Blue Horizons
Jild Blue Horizons,
like nothing I've seen
Waiting silently, after
for the colors to
to control my mind,
and to put a cap
on a beautiful
!p 3p V W
Off The Beaten Path
T .Jelcome to IIcDonald's, scene of
much of today's tour. I have arranged
a complete tour of the store during its
daily operation. Let's listen as the
crew functions smoothly:
"Back room, we need boar's vomit
on two — I mean ice!"
The person assigned to that group
of tasks collectively known as "Back
Room" is also responsible for supplying
condiments and meat to the Grill Team,
shake mix, sundae mix, cups, and any-
thing else that happens to be in short
supply. Notice how the person in the
pickle suit gets the ice from the ma-
chine; I've heard that he hits the ice
bucket fully sixty per cent of the time
now, which is a big improvement over
what he did last tour.
He often has to make two trips,
because only half the ice in the bucket
actually makes it to the bin. Hey, you,
with the ice bucket! Come here I
"Jould you please explain to these
people why only half the ice ever makes
it to the bin?"
"Certainly. First, however, I'g
like to know how many of ^ r ou are fami-
liar with Newtonian physics. Motoodrl
It figures. "
"Just what does Newtonian physics
have to do with your clumsiness* 11
"Nothing, rtMlly; I just wanted to
kaw wfto olse toews it besides me. I
Off The Beaten Path (cont'd)
Off The 'Beaten Path (cont'd)
also don't spill ice that often, at
either stage. .Now if you'll excuse me,
I'll fill the bin."
"Ten to one he spills at least
some ice." an anonymous viewer rye lied*" .
Thirt2 r seconds later, not an ice
cube xras to be found outside the bins,
unless you count the ones under the
counter. Here is a window person.
Let's talk xfith her.
"Excuse me, but 70 u don't seen to
be too busy at the moment; is it all
right if you talk with us?"
"Sure. Hhat do you -.rant to knou?"
"First of all, we'd like to know
how you feel towards the advertising
the corporation does. For example, how
do you like it when the powers-that-be
say that grill people love to cook?"
"I agree only half way. I mean,
we like to serve the public and all
that, but when little old ladies order
specials, or anyone else, for that mat-
ter, does, we dislike it! I think that
the people on grill say it best; hit it,
boys ! "
"Hold the pickle, hold the lettuce,
special orders sure upset us, all we ask
is that you let us serve it our way!"
"".Jell, that was certainly an in-
teresting statement. 'Jhat do the rest
of the crew have to say?"
"He really mean it!"
"Back room !
Wwl.p -n vj It
Excuse me, but how did you know
the shake machine is drained?"
"The only thing that comes out is
syrup, and the lights are on."
"The mix is in, and as official
tester, I xn.ll have some boar's vomit
to slake my thirst," said the guy in the
"ky xrord, you people certainly have
odd dietary tastes around here. How
does one get boar's vomit from the k
"It's quite simple, actually.
Just mix all three flavors of shake.
How's it look, Sim? 1 '
"Get away from me! You're icky!"
she said. "He also drinks suicides."
"I take it a suicide is a mi.
es. They're pretty good, but
boar's vomit is disgusting. If you'd
like, I'll make one for each of you."
"Actually, I xras thinking more
about boar's vomit. It sounds inter-
esting. And while you're at it, pour
a. suicide in x-rith the boar's vomit. "
"Excuse me a second, olease.
THOHASl Get over here!"
"You screeched?" he said. "I hops
it's important, because the toxjel duel
of the century is going on right nou,
and I don't xrant to miss it!"
".fny did you do it?"
"Look at xdiat they ' re drinking ! "
"It looks like fermented rat in-
testines to me. It's better than boar's
vomit, and is chock full ox vitamin C."
"Thank you. Flattery will get you
Since the duel is over by
now, I will do my cleanup. Tnile you
have been loafing up here, the store
has closed, the food has been counted
and eaten, and yours truly has washed
almost all the dishes. You have yet to
start your cleanup, which means you'll
be here when the dawn arrives on the
This has been a walk OFF THE
B3AT3N PATH. Thank you for bearing with
us on'wgiat is the fi«rst of a l<j»ng series
of tours. And remember,
Tnen you're feeling tired and weary
In need of some relief,
Talk to k.s. O'leary,
Our one misguided chief!
?f. >£ ;[: >'f >'£
Cult Of Gods Beyond
Sunshine burred the mountain ridge
and began to bend down the slopes to-
ward a village. Hoxjever, sweat x-jas al-
ready heavy on the islanders' foreheads,
as light rays silhouetted their forms.
Although the clear mid-day sky was al-
ready tropic blue, all workers awoke
simultaneous to the unseen sunrise on
the oceans edge hours before; further-
more, they were continuing religious
requirements necessary to their cult.
.Jith each increase in brilliance over
the mostly barren land, one would have
glimpsed the several thousand busy na-
tives, each probably wondering about
the cultural origin of their combined
effort!?,. " 8 a \
Great stories of the past from
leader-teacher Homoko-Hani convinced
at least one Polynesian. Rano Ahtau,
carding several large stone axes, made
his way across a steep, rocky slope to-
ward the open work area. Handing the
newly sharpened tools to laboring
sculptors in trade for those worn and
dull, Rano's thoughts questioned only
if some fortunate, forthcoming day he
too would carve "the giants" alongside
many fellow villagers. For the present,
however, he diligently attended to his
assigned duty of hammering, scraping,
and shaping the cumbersome utensils.
Ahtau was considerably lucky, com-
pared to the multitude of muscular
workers on this particular section of
the island, because he had necessary
need for mobility. ".Thereas the builders
naturally kept stationary, in a group
related environment, the repeated
round trips, from rocky cliff areas
With sharpening stones to "the giants'"
birthplace resting on the volcanic
slopes, allowed Rano to view the scenic
coastline. Host importantly, he could
behold the standing figures themselves,
guarding the island, upon their altars.
Staring at the open-bowled eyes
and the straight forward chin, or jut-
ting lower jaw protuding like an imoene-
Cult of Gods Beyond (cont'd)
The Christmas Gift (cont'd)
trating vessel's bow, the rather young,
dark skinned male stood silently. Once
again in awe of the hundreds of statues
beyond Rano's vantage point, the mono-
liths observed so often sent a strange
chill of warmth, unfelt before, through
his inspired body.
He remembered Momoko's explanation
of the Bird-man ritual in which Rano's
own father was fatally mailed by sharks,
while attempting to swim to the Nui is- ,
let for a manutara egg. He couldn't
remember his father. He recalled the
Hiva Mantou ceremony on a day when winds
and rains were so troublesome that the
gods were disputed by many chiefs. He
didn't understand the civil war that
followed or the separation of his people.
A wise Moko restored order to one clus-
ter and renewed some beliefs; however,
the cult had lost man power. Rano re-
membered the prophecies of destruction
if the religion didn't survive; a
point Hani emphasized.
The thunderous sound of Rano's
thoughts echoed through the area, and
in that instant he was encased by lava
from behind. Billowous dense smoke
blocked the afternoon sun, while a wall
of waves simmering with steam oozed
down the mountain. Most of those de-
stroyed left with eyes toward embryos
of stone and minds in a similar state.
At least one understood; leaving us to
Some large erect heads protude to-
day from volcanic ground in the Pacific
on Easter Island.
* sjc % 9je sje
The Christmas Gift
A ray of sunlight pierced the gap
between the curtains and explored the
sleeping face of the elderly woman
sprawled over a rumpled bed. Clad in a
uniform that marked me as a worker in
this Old Folks' Home, I made my way to-
xrard the windox^ and slowly, quietly
pulled the cord that parted the curtains,
An explosion of sunlight diffused
itself into the room, and the eyelids
of the drowsy patient reluctantly flut-
tered, acknowledging the sudden bright-
"Mrs. O'Leary," I said gently,
still battling a tinge of guilt that
played on my nerves. "Mrs. O'Leary,
it's time to get up."
"Gimme five more minutes," she
begged, not opening her eyes.
I signed and smiled a little. "All
right," I murmured. "But you slept
late, and you need to be down to eat
your breakfast soon." Then, remembering
I added, "Merry Christmas Eve, Mrs.
' Leary . "
rs. O'Leary didn't reply, and I
left the room. Since she was the last
patient for me to awaken, I headed for
the kitchen to help get the breakfast
trays ready for the patients. On my
way I vassed the till, stately c\rer-
green laced with tinsel and ornaments
that x\ras a reminder of tomorroxtf's holi-
day. Other decorations, including
wreaths, had been made by patients, and
these were hung about the lobb*' to com-
plement the tree, the room's present
main attraction. The total effect x-jas
bright and cheerful.
Spurred by this sight into remem-
bering my plan, I glanced at my xratch
to be sure I had time enough, and slip-
ped into a pay phone booth in the lobby.
With childish excitement, I in-
serted two dimes and dialed Tony's num-
Tony's voice on the line was plea-
"Tony, it's me, Lisa! "
"Oh . . .hit"
"I just called to say that I can't
xra.it till you come doxxn to our house to-
night because I have a terrific present
for youi Oh, and I was xrondering if
you could come a little earlier--Hom
says xfe'll eat at six-"
"Lisa," The uncertainty in Tony's
voice xfas so thick that I sensed it
over the line, miles away.
"/■Ihat's wrong? Can't you come to-
night? Oh . . . Tony ..."
"Look, Lisa," Tony sighed, "It's
been so difficult."
"You and me living so far apart —
going to different high schools in dif-
ferent towns. Ever since I moved it's
been almost as though xre're from sepa-
rate countries; things aren't the way
they used to be . . . we hardly ever
get to see each other-"
"But we will tonight!" I exclaimed
Tony x-;as silent for a moment, and
his reluctance to speak xreighed heavily
on both of us.
"I might as well tell you nox-j, Lisa.
I . . . uh . . . xrell, I met this girl
in my new high school ... we have a
lot in common ... I really like her, "
Tony said, and then, taking a deep
breath added, "Lisa, I xron't be seeing
you anymore . . . I'm really sorry."
I felt injury and disbelief as I
heard the click of the receiver on the
other end of the line, and the immedi-
ate hum of the phone. The horrible emp-
tiness of rejection inflicted its x^ound
in me. I felt slapped in the face.
Even the glittering, ornamented Christ-
mas tree laughed, at me as its lights
winked on and off mockingly.
I pinched myself to convince myself
of the realitv of the situation, x^rhich
could possibly turn out to be a night-
mare. These things usually did, I told
myself helplessly*; I wasn't in luck.
This can't be true; I told myself
over and over again as I vacated "the
phone booth and sat down on one of the
lounge chairs. If it were true, I'd be
in tears. Thy wasn't I crying, snywayf
I seemed to be unable to accept what had
occurred, and because of that, could not
bring myself to allow a p&nse of gloom
io overtake my emotions*
The Christmas Gift (cont'd)
I had so looked forward to cele-
brating our first Christmas together
with Tony. I had taken for granted
that it would be the first of many. I
thought of the terrific sweater I'd
spent many hours knitting for him to
give him as a Christmas gift — something
I'd put a great deal of time and effort
into so that it would be meaningful.
It was in green — his favorite color.
I still could not bring myself to
believe what had occurred. Although I
had unconsciously feared this since
Tony's move, the break-up was so sudden.
Its total significance hadn't quite
sunk in yet.
I allowed my mind the luxury of
pondering over past happinesses I'd
shared with him, until a familiar voice
behind me brought me back to the pre-
"Weill" exclaimed I Irs. O'Leary in
mock horror. I looked up and rested my
eyes on the diminutive patient, smiling
kindly, seated in a wheelchair in
feigned shock as she looked at me, "Look
who's daydreaming on duty," she said.
"Shame ! "
As I studied the pale wrinkled
face of the elderly woman, I suddenly
was gripped by genuine fear of old age.
I also felt overwhelming sympathy for
all those withered souls who inhabited
this home, including the rather ancient,
yet still lively Mrs. O'Leary.
I forced cheerfulness on myself,
for this was an important part of my
job. "Yes, I'll admit I'd probably be
richer if I were paid for daydreaming
time, instead of work time."
Mrs. O'Leary chuckled and her eyes
wrinkled at the corners.
"I see that you're using a xtfheel-
chair this morning. Are your legs
bothering you again?" I asked.
The elderly woman glanced about to
make certain that no one heard as she
hoarsely xjhispered, "No, I'm just feel-
ing lazy this morning."
I managed a smile, although I
kneitf she x-ras lying. Old age certainly
hadn't dampened Mrs. O'Leary's sense
of humor. I x-iished fervently that I
could someday learn to cope with dis-
appointment as some others did.
Tony, I remembered with pain, had
been one able to take disappointment in
I wheeled Mrs. O'Leary into the
cafeteria to one of the tables at which
the patients ate their meals, and left
her with several other elderly patients
xiho were absorbed in the process of
eating. Watching some of them, one
would have thought it x\ras a major ac-
complishment to lift food with a fork
and place it into one's mouth. Indeed,
for some of these patients it xxas.
I 'any were senile, or nearly so, and of-
ten simply lacked the energy to accom-
plish the feat of feeding themselves
with any degree of ease.
I remained for a fex-r moments after
placing Mrs. O'Leary's breakfast tray
The Christmas Gift (cont'd)
before her, and watched the other pa-
tients eat, remaining nearby so that I
could offer aid if necessary. Moved by
the common force of hunger, the seated
patients did their best. Yet many could
feed themselves only xri.th as much pro-
ficiency as a small child learning the
act for the first time.
I did not openly offer to help any
of the patients, for I did not x-rant to
tease their pride. Yet I hovered near-
by in case any of the patients* would
request help in their frustration.
Tony would have admired the inde-
pendent spirit that compelled these dis-
abled elderly to do their best, I
thought. This brought back the sting
of memory. Although I'd still not ful-
ly accepted what had occurred, the pain
of rejection xras beginning to invade my
emotions. I xranted to curl up in a
corner and be forgotten.
Perhaps I already belonged in an
Old Folks' Home for, although only sev-
enteen,- I felt considerably older. I
felt that part of my life had caved in,
making me empty. For the first time as
I looked about the room I drex^r close to
the vacant staring souls that occupied
the space in the room. We all had some-
thing in common. Rejection. Only these
persons xrere rejected by their families,
Suddenly, an elderly man acciden-
tally spilled a glass of orange juice,
and he watched in fascination as the
golden orange liquid moved in an ever-
enlarging puddle across the table. The
other patients, accustomed to such oc-
currences, merely continued to" eat in
I leaped into action, quickly found
a couple of paper napkins and used them
to mop up the liquid before it could
quite possibly drip onto a patient's
This action struck a familiar chord
in my memory bank. The first time I'd
met Tony, tall, good-looking, athletic,
x>ras in the lunch line at school x-rhere
I'd been jostled by another student ac-
cidentally, as I had reached for a plas-
tic cup of orange juice. The liquid had
spilled over onto Tony's tray, and I'd
spent the next few minutes in uttering
axikward apologies and mopping the li-
quid off his lunch tray xri.th a paper
Had fate pulled that experience
from my memory bank into the present to
slap me in the face in painful recol-
lection? I xxas jolted into realizing
that Tony, who had been such an impor-
tant person in my life in the past'fexj
months, had now severed our relation-
I gasped helplessly in an automatic
preventative measure to keep from shed-
ding tears. I could not restrain them,
and xras soon sobbing. Without thinking,
I ran from the room and, for lack of
anyx^here else to go, I stepped into the
lobby which, unusually, was empty.
The Christmas Gift (cont'd)
The Christmas Gift (cont'd)
That is, empty except for the
Christmas tree, a symbol of joy that
had now become firmly annexed to unhap-
piness in my mind.
Sinking into one of the vinyl,
cushioned chairs, I put my head in my
hands and allowed myself the luxury of
shedding my sorrow in -the form of
Soon I felt the presence of ano-
ther person in the room. Looking up
during a lull in my sobbing, I saw
that, once -again it was my friend Mrs.
O'Leary. "Go on," she encouraged.
"Don't mind me. It's good to cry it
all out, though I don't see any reason
in crying over spilled milk. . . uh,
orange juice in this case, I guess."
I managed a smile through my mask
of tears, but then my unhappiness smo-
thered me again, and I began once again
to cry. Mrs. O'Leary waited patiently
as I took a tissue from the pocket of
my uniform and wiped my tears.
"Now," Mrs. O'Leary said, after my
sobbing had quieted a little. "It's
an awful shame to have such a young
girl crying on Christmas Sve." She
looked at me and added, "It's not just
because of Mr. Cooper's orange juice
accident, is it, Lisa?"
I shook my head, and suddenly felt
an overwhelming need for sympathy. Be-
tween sobs and gasps for breath I then
told her everything about Tony and me.
"I - I feel so alone and s — so rejec-
ted." I added afterwards.
Mrs. O'Leary looked at the Chris-
tmas tree without really seeing it and
murmured. "I know what you mean."
"N-— No you don't. Y'— You can't"
"We all feel alone , at one time , "
Mrs. O'Leary explained slowly. "At
your age, Lisa, we feel alone because
we're trying to slowly break away from
our families; we have to become inde-
pendent people and be accepted by
others. . . When things don't work out
right; when others reject us, we feel
"And you? In your case, instead
of trying to break away from your fam-
ily. . •"
"At my age, our families start to
try to break away from us . "
"Is that why your family put you
in this home?" I whispered.
"That's part of it. At ray age,
you sort of expect it though."
"Oh , " I sobbed in genuine sym-
pathy. "How can you stand it?"
"It's all a part of life, Lisa,
and there isn't one thing we can do
"It still doesn't make me feel
better about being rejected, I still
feel. . . unwanted."
Mrs. O'Leary once again looked at
the Christmas tree, this time regard-
ing it thoughtfully. "I suppose that's
how Mary and Joseph felt when none of
the i.nnkooncr's offered to Cake them
"This," I said suddenly, "Is a
cruel world. "
"Wo, just unfair and difficult at
times, but I don't think cruel 's the
word for it." She paused and then
went on. "I know you're upset about
your boyfriend, but you're still very
lucky. You still have your family,
your friends. . . and us."
I watched as several patients,
finished with their breakfasts, wheel-
ed themselves or walked themselves
with canes from the direction of the
cafeteria. As I watched the white fa-
ces of the men and women, many who wo-
uld have no relatives visiting them
over the holidays. I sax* what Mrs.
O'Leary said xias true. I was very
"What about them. . . and you?"
I whispered to her.
"Well, most of us have families
usually far away. But unfortunately
we're often forgotten during the holi-
days . "
I suddenly saw my job in a new
perspective, and immediately began mak-
ing plans to spend more time xri.th each
of the individual patients as I worked
through part of my Christmas holidays.
Keeping busy might also help me to for-
get more quickly; by helping others, I
could perhaps gain new insight into
helping myself as well,
I suddenly found, to my joy, that
I had gained something of the true
Christmas spirit, and it was welcome.
I felt needed.
I looked at Mrs. O'Leary. "Thanks,"
I whispered, "Thank you so much. You've
helped me a great deal."
As Mrs. O'Leary smiled and nodded,
I suddenly recalled the green sweater
I'd knitted for Tony as his Christmas
gift from me. As I measured her with
my eyes, I tried to calculate the alter-
ing I'd have to do on the project, and
stood up, smiling.
"I'll have to get back to work now,
Mrs. O'Leary," I said. "Bye now," I
began to leave, but then turned and
added, "Mrs. O'Leary?"
The elderly woman wheeled herself
closer to me in her chair and said,
"Yes ? "
"What's your favorite color?"
A smile lifted her face playfully.
"Why, I'm Irish, dear, remember? What
else but green?"
A glow warmed me as I said, "In
that case, I think that you'll like
your Christmas gift from me very much
. . .Merry Christmas, Mrs. O'Learyi"
Swish i Swish J
Swish 1 Swish;
The cat's tail
the grass while
s talking to prey
House I Pounce t
This Story Has No Title (cont'd)
This Story Has Wo Title
It's funny, she thought, how her
first impression of him x\ras also her
School had started only one week
ago so she wasn't tired of it yet. But
she knew she would grow to dislike it,
so when the chance to leave the small
college town for a weekend came up,
she grabbed at it. The local radio
station had announced that a student
was looking for a rider to Chicago for
the Labor Day weekend.
They arrived over an hour late.
She hated waiting for anyone. Now she
recognized Brad, the driver. He work-
ed at the school radio station. That
angered her further. Everyone knew
the d.j.'s there were "pot heads" and
"professional students". He had a bad
complexion and a bad mouth. The other
rider's name was Jon- He wore glasses
and had a big nose. "Birds of a fea-
ther, " she thought. They drove to
pick up yet another rider. She was
sitting in the back seat next to a
cooler and Jon turned around and tried
to start up a conversation. He was de-
finitely interested but tried too hard.
She ansxtfered his questions but offered
no more information. The next rider,
Eric, wore a headband around his long
blonde hair. "What have I gotten my-
self into?" she wondered.
As they sped onto the highway
Brad and Jon asked her to open up the
cooler and hand them a beer.
"Take one," Brad said.
"Ho thanks," she replied.
Then Jon lit up a joint and pas-
sed it around.
"No thanks," she said again.
"This is just great" she thought.
"All we need is to get pulled over by
a cop for speeding."
The drive seemed to take forever.
The three friends reminisced about
partying and buying dope in Mexico.
Slamming the front door of her
home, she yelled "What a bunch of jerks,
But now she was relieved to be home
and her temper cooled as she chatted
xjith her older sister.
It was getting late when they ar-
rived back at school. Brad had brought
back a carload of junk so Jon gave her
a ride to her place in his own car so
Brad could start unloading.
Jon seemed like a decent person
today; not like the jerk she first iaet.
He carried her suitcase inside
and continued talking while copying
dox>m her phone number. Usually she wo-
uld have been angered at such audacity,
but tonight it seemed funny.
"What makes this guy think I'd
even want to go out with him?" she
thought. "Oh well, I'll just say no
She was working on homework at the
kitchen table when the phone rang. It
wasn't surprising to hear it was Jon.
silhat surprised her was hearing herself
say "yes" to a Friday night dinner date.
After she hung up she wondered
why she had said yes.
He arrived promptly and she was
disappointed to see he was wearing his
glasses, which sat crooked on his big
nose. Was she hoping he would look
better without them?
He had made lasagne and poured red
wine into champagne glasses. They sat
facing each other perched on bar stools
at a*rough wooden bar.'
*He told' her the* story of tiernr he
and his roommate stole the wood for the
bar from a construction site.
After dinner, they sat on the
couch talking and drinking wine. There
was a pause in the conversation and he
turned and started kissing her. Big,
wet, sloppy kisses. When he finally
stopped, she felt like wiping her face
with her hand but resisted the impulse.
He had swim practice early the
next morning so he brought her home be-
fore the evening was very late.
"He's nice," she thought. "I hope
to see him again. "
She was surprised x>rhen he called
just one day later and wanted to play
tennis. They met at the courts and had
only played a short x^hile when he wanted
to quit and have a talk.
They walked through the park and
sat under a tree by the pond. He said
he felt there x-ras something really spe-
cial between them. She ims silent but
her mind clicked away.
"How about some feedback?" he
■ .'She hadn't expected this. She
wanted to continue seeing him but' wasn't
sure of her feelings yet and told him
He started kissing her and slowly
pushed her back till she was lying in
the grass with him on top.
"This is ridiculous," she thought.
"We're in a public park in the middle
of a Sunday afternoon."
„ She pulled away from his sloppy
kisses and sat up again.
She and a friend had just left a
party when she spotted Jon's beat up
old Cutlass. She hopped out at the
next corner and ran to his windoxj. He
and a friend were driving around drink-
ing and smoking dope. He would meet
her back at his place.
They went to his room. There x^as
a mattress on the floor and numerous
bean hag chairs. She chose a bean bag
and he sat in one next to her. After
awhile he moved to the same one with
her and started kissing her and pressing
his body on hers.
She wished he wouldn't be so phys-
ical so she didn't stay too long.
. The next night they went to a fra-
ternity party. It x*as hot and they
danced most of the night.
"Let's go swimming.," he said.
"Where are we going to go at this
This Story Has No Title (cont'd)
This Story Has No Title (cont'd)
"Over at the school pool. I know
how to get in. "
She felt like being a little crazy
so they drove over to the gym and snuck
in a back door. She stuck a toe in the
water and walked around the pool. She
looked up to see Jon hop naked onto the
diving board and splash into the water.
She hadn't thought too much about
it before noitf, but now she realized
what this was leading up to. She hesi-
tantly started taking off her clothes.
She had slept with some of her boy-
friends in high school and college, but
was never comfortable being seen naked.
While Jon Trent off the diving boards
she floated on her back in the shallow
end. She didn't particularly care to
see naked men either.
He snuck up underwater and grabbed
her and they laughed and splashed a-
They xrent into the locker room and
stood under a hot shower kissing. For
once she didn't mind his sloppy kisses.
The warmth of the water and his body,
the few drinks she had had, and the
apprehension that they could get caught
all made it seem nice and exciting.
They got dried off and dressed
and headed to her place.
Jon spent the night that evening,
and every: night after that. It fol-
lowed naturally that he should move in
with her. He even promised he would
quit smoking dope.
They bought a water bed and built
the frame. They built shelves for his
junk. They played tennis, racquetball,
want bike riding, went to football
games and concerts, cooked out in the
park, did their homework and studied.
'.Jhen the semester ended, they
headed to their respective homes for
She had only been home one day
xirhen her sister asked her to go to a
bar in a nearby small town. They had
only been there a short while when they
were asked if they would join two young
men at the other end of the bar. She
started to say "no" but her sister had
already agreed. She tried to ignore
the blonde man with a moustache that s
sat next to her. He kept talking and
she eventually got interested in the
conversation. He was tall and well
built and had deep blue eyes. His
name was Hark and his friend was Bruce.
They all decided to go out to
breakfast after the bar closed. The
next day Hark called and would pick up
her and her sister. Of course, he
would bring a friend.
They went bowling and then to his
apartment to play electronic TV games.
They had a fun time even though she
felt a little childish.
Hark lightly kissed her good night
and said he hoped to see her again.
The next day Jon called. He had
arranged for them to ro skiing in Wis-
consin for a week. They left late
thnt jtlgbt and aiTxv&d eai'ly tho next
Before she met Mark she had de-
cided to marry Jon. But now things
had changed. Hark x^asn't that impor-
tant to her. He x>ras nice and fun to .
be around, but he wasn't Hr. Right.
What he made her realize was that she
xjas too young to be "promised" to
someone. She still xranted to date
other men. Ho re than one man found
She knew better then to tell him
this all at once. She worked around
to dropping a hint, so the suggestion
was planted in his mind.
Everything Jon did that x-jeek gra-
ted on her nerves. She couldn't stand
his sloppy kisses and rejected his ad-
vances at night. She x^as bitchy and
x\rished she'd, never come skiing.
Each night she brought up the
subject of breaking up.
She didn't think he was getting
the message xjhen one morning he asked
her to marry him.
"No," she said. "School comes
first. You know that."
He had known the answer before he
asked, so why had he bothered?
She was glad to finally be back
in Chicago and away from Jon. She
avoided him and went out with Hark.
Jon returned to school early for
swim practices and a meet.
She dreaded returning to school.
How was she going to get rid of some-
one she had loved and lived with?
'Jhen she arrived she xfas amazed
to find the place spotless and fresh
flowers in a vase on the table.
Jon act3d like things hadn't
changed between them. She stood mo-
tionless with her arms at her side as
he hugged and kissed her. His big,
wet sloppy kisses disgusted her and
she wiped her face with her hand. She
pushed him away and mumbled that she
xras tired after the long drive and wa-
nted to unpack her car.
That night she clung to the edge
of the water bed and acted like an
icicle toxrard Jon's advances. After
another two days she couldn't take it
any longer. She told him she didn't
love him anymore and wa nted him to
They fought and screamed at each
other most of that night and the next
day. He refused to move out. He told
her hoxr he had lied to her many times
and she had believed him. He had sto-
len many of the things he had and had
never quit smoking dope at all. He
told her how the large dents in his
car were from when he hit a parked
car and left the scene of the accident.
He called her names and shouted ob-
Finally she was left with no al-
ternative than to call his father and
ask him to intervene. Jon feared his
father and agreed to move one.
She helped him move out, she was
that glad to be getting rid of him.
This Story Has No Title (cont'd)
For xxeeks afterwards she received sar-
castic, insulting letters and phone calls
He' would regret everything that he
had said. He had never stopped loving
her and was only lashing out because of
the deep hurt he felt.
She xias' right. He soon began stop-
ping by, hoping to still be friends. He
often cried. It disgusted her to watch
him cry. He whimpered like a child. It
made her angry, not sympathetic.
The damage was done. He had hurt
her with his lies, making a fool of her.
Yet he claimed that he loved her and
would never lie again. How could she be
expected to believe that?
She refused to see him or talk to
him anymore. She wanted no more of his
tears or promises.
Later in the semester, she heard
that Jon xras talking about her around
After everything they had been
through, she thought it-was funny how
her first impression of him xxas also her
V 'fi % h* *p
Wife of John
Soaring high like kites
Waiting for reality
Summer dreams glide by
Dreams are fantasies
Held tight in midnight secrets
Longing to come true
Like hearts deep in love
Dreams are shattered and broken
"Til spring sA *stfines through - ?
Dreams are people's toys
Played with until they are xrorn
Then replaced by nex;
Dreams are butterflies
Fluttering through summer trees
Dreams are aging books
Opened again and again
As winter creeps by.
* " * >|S * # 9JC
Her spirit rides my thoughts, prodding my search. T
for the essence of her warmth.
From her grave does the Violet nod to tell me of
her frolic through Tidewater Springs?
And from the Oak does the Robin's song accompany
her dance through Bluegrass Summers?
Does the Brook novr murmur secrets of her love
that flowed through Prairie Autumns?
And do the bitter winds tell of her flight
through desolate winters?
I've sought the warmth of this Nancy, Wife of
John and I found her in the seasons.
I've fingered the weathered stone above her .fragile
bones and I have loved her.
Life giving as the earth that claimed her.
Eternally lost but for the atone that names her.
f * *
. }jnv ~ Petoioon
We could 'write a story
Very dark and awfully rorv
To flush the ughlies out,
We even could shout.
Or we could sneer and be moan
And noisily steam
Ranting and raving
No anger saving
"Til up**-* aii flushed out
There would be no doubt.
Then when our anger x/as gone,
We could sit down and yawn,
Thrust a gaze upon the rubble,
And many a popped bubble.
This gargantious mess
Would leave us depressed
And the ughlies would begin
We'd just have to do it a^ain.
J. D. Guse
from factories defecated
Bring ray thoughts to
for that great unknown
from clear blue depths that have now
from f acto&es "defecated' 1
: T arsha Kline
The Lodge (cont'd)
Rachel swung around quickly, her
long blonde hair flying in all direc-
tions. Her face was fixed in a ques-
tioning expression. In an instant she
surveyed the contents of the tiny room.
An old, dust-laden pine bureau
stood against the east wall. The porce-
lain knobs were missing on both the top
and bottom drawers. The third drawer
fit in a rather cock-eyed manner, so
that even when the drawer was closed,
it wasn't. The blue-striped wallpaper
behind the bureau had long since faded
to a dull gray sameness. High above
the bureau, cobwebs hung conspicuously
from each corner of the room. The once
white ceiling was now a dirty yellow.
To the right of the bureau, Rachel
caught a glimpse of an untouched brass
The quilt that covered the sagging
mattress was the work of an artist.
Each swatch had been tediously stitched
to form a beautiful coverlet. Years
had passed now, since the quilt had be-
en placed upon this bed, but its beauty
aroused in Rachel an unsettling sense
Rachel x^as not sure why she was
here in this musty old room, nor was
she sure just what brought her here to-
Earlier, that sunny June morning
in 1978, Rachel had suggested to Brad
that they drive around the lake just
one last time before they packed up their
camping gear and headed back to city
As they approached a heavily wood-
ed area to the north of the lake, Rachel'
eye was drawn toward a sandy overgrown
trail that once may have been traveled
by horses or more recently, perhaps, an
"Look, Brad - an old road. Let's
explore a little! The jeep will make
"Aw, c'mon, Rachel. It looks ra-
ther forbidding. Besides, we don't
have a lot of gas."
"Brad, please. Just a little way.
Then we'll head back," Rachel pleaded.
"Alright. Let's make it quick
Brad turned the jeep onto the old
road. The vehicle jolted along at a
snails pace through the x^eeds, bouncing
over buried rocks and branches. They
wound around until the woods stretched
out on all sides of them. Tree branches
seemed to be closing in on them as
Brad's nervousness became apparent.
"Now look, Rachel. This is getting
a bit ridiculous. How can we even turn
the jeep around? We can't back out ei-
ther. We must be nearly a mile, from the
main road, " Brad snapped anxiously.
"Brad, where' s your sense of adven-
ture, anyway? I have a feeling we'll
come to an opening soon* lot's go just
a little farther. "
The trees cleared as they rounded
the next curve, revealing a mammoth old'
"Look Bradt A lodge. We've fouad
a lodge ! "
Brad brought the jeep to a halt in
an area where the weeds didn't quite
reach the running board. Before the
jeep had actually stopped, Rachel leap-
ed out and ran toward the forbidding
"Rachel, get back here. "There in
the world are you going?"
But, Rachel disappeared through a
large old entryway.
Brad jumped from the jeep and ran
toward the lodge. As he entered the
doorway, he stepped into a dark dusty
foyer with an ancient x^inding stairxray.
Just ahead, he noticed a large lobby
still furnished with its original fur-
niture, which was now very antique.
Several other rooms were arranged a-
round the lobby. A formal dining room
lay off to the side. Next to the din-
ing room, Brad noted a great old lib-
rary xtfith thousands of books lining ev-
ery inch of all four walls.
Rachel was nox^here to be found.
Brad called but there was no answer,
other than his oxm voice as it echoed
back around the lobby. He x^andered
around aimlessly before deciding to
climb the staircase. Each stair creaked
loudly under his steps. The eeriness
should have been enough to turn any man
Brad wondered why Rachel had not
been afraid. What - if anything - could
have drax-jn her into this place? She
hadn't even waited for him. She had
s disappeared so quickly; it was almost
as if she knew just where she x^as going.
At the top of the stairs several
hallways stretched out like road maps
before him. The hallway to the East
seemed to have a window near the end,
as some source of light was detectable.
Brad walked quickly now, calling
as he passed each closed door. After
trying the knobs on the first few doors,
Brad realized that they were all locked.
He picked up his pace, until he
broke into a run. The hallway was groxtf-
ing a little brighter now. Hox^ever, the
source of light appeared to be coming
from a room rather than a window. Brad
stopped dead in his tracks as he reached
the end of the hall. A door xras opened
and the sun that shone through the win-
dow of the tiny room overflowed into the
Rachel xjas sitting on an old brass
bed gently fingering a beautiful quilt.
Her eyes xrare fixed upon the stitching
in the quilt. The expression on her
face was one of utter tranquility.
"Rachel, \[y God, why did you run
off on me? I was so xrorried about you."
Rachel's expression didn't change.
She did not respond to Brad's presence.
"Rachel. T /hat are you doing here?"
Brad pleaded desperately searching- for
The Lodge (cont'd)
Rachel did not answer. Ten years
of another life-time were flashing
through her mind like dreams. Sud-
denly, she knew why she was here. The
surroundings were painfully familiar
now. Her father had owned this lodge
before he died in 1861. Rachel was ten
years old then. She remembered how she
had begged and pleaded with her mother
to keep the lodge open. She loved it
here. She loved the freedom, the se-
clusion and the quiet privacy that the
lodge offered. She loved the friendly
people who were regular visitors. She
loved the birds, the wild animals, the
flowers and the wind in the trees. She
loved the various activities that life
at the lodge offered.
Despite her pleadings, the lodge
was boarded up and she was never al-
lowed to return. Rachel, her mother
and her grandmother were whisked off to
the city to live with Aunt Sarah and
Uncle Ben. Rachel developed pneumonia
and died of complications the following
Wow, remembering her dying wish,
Rachel knew she would someday return to
Thoughts of Freedom From the Kitchen
You sit in the kitchen
and your fingers are itchin 1
To do something new.
You're feeling so blue
For a clean house is nice
And so is cooked rice
But the effort is lost
With one careless toss
Of this thing and that,
A lunch box and a hat,
Papers, popcorn and rocks
Soon up to your socks.
I wish I could sing
vJith a happy ring.
I'd sing in the rain
And eat sugar cane,
Hop up a big tree
and buzz with a bee.
I'd siting from a limb
'Till the light had gone dim.
When your slicing the Bree
You don't feel free.
+ sf; % $ :>}:
I'm Gatchin the First Bus Outta Here
I'm catchin the first bus outta here
and headin for the stars.
Now, I don't knoxir
if Greyhound goes there;
if it's a regular route
or a special run
that's gotta be arranged,
but I'm goin just the same
and I don't x^ant no company.
I'll call em on the telephone
and say I want the Skyline Tour —
no chauffeur —
I'll drive myself, thank you.
I'll be there
at ten of six
with my bags crammed full
of pretzel sticks
and itfhatever booze I'll need
for the next few years
Cause I'm gettin outta here
while the gettin 's good
and the stars still shine.
I ain't twenty-nine
It's gettin late
and I can't handle
this mad, mad, mad, mad, mad —
well, you know.
So au revoir, so long, good-bye;
The time to leave is drawing nigh —
neigh, nay, ni-nee-no,
time to go —
and please forg&b to write.
Joy Ride (cont'd)
Millions of light-years away in a
galaxy knoxim on earth as KGC 5128
school xtfas in session on the planet
Gelt for boys entering the ranks of
Taul Ceti Legionnaires. The school was
a vigorous six year training camp to
teach the disciplined xrays of the Taul
The boys in this particular class,
fifteen of them in all, were starting
their days training in Taul Ceti medi-
tation rituals to open their minds to
accommodate higher and higher levels of
learning. Each boy was sitting on the
open grounds with their eyes closed
tilted upward to the sky, while an old
Taul Ceti teacher walked among their
rows carefully checking vital signs to
be sure each boy was fully responding.
The old teacher was of the Eister-
ion race, founders of Taul Ceti. They
were a proud race dating back billions
of years, possibly as far back as time
itself. The old Eisterion looked
proudly at his pupils. He had much to
be proud of. Thirteen of them were al-
so Elsterions characterized by a bluish
pallor of the skin and yellowish al-
mond eyes. Taul Ceti welcomed all
peaceful races and the teacher was hap-
py to have a Carean and an Insetus amid
The teacher eyed the Carean and
the shy Insetus boys who were becoming
"Things like that happen," he
thought. "Two races so different, so
all alone, yet see hoitf they attract to
each other like magnets."
He looked at Joal the Carean and
thought, "We are lucky to have one of
his kind. They are so bold, intelli-
gent, daring, and golden like a fabled
Careans were one of the most hand-
some creatures in the galaxy, not only
because of their pleasing looks but be-
cause of an aura of goodness that glow-
ed from them.
A smile spread across the teacher's
lips as his eyes moved to Palan, the
little Insetus with big green eyes,
skin so -white it seemed translucent,
hair fine and transparent, and little
antennae peering out from behind either
"How his race understands nature
and respects life," the teacher thought.
"He seems so young and small, but they
have assured me he was ready to start
the training. He's lucky to find a
friend like Joal."
The teacher's thoughts returned to
the class and with one sharp clap of
his hands the meditation was broken.
The boys rose brushing dust from their
robes recalling their senses in the
mid-day air. The class was over. The
boys began to disperse except for two,
Joal and Palan. The old Eisterion no-
ticed thew standing nnd walked uo to
them glad he had the opportunity to see
"I suppose you two have mastered
the art of Ceti meditation," he said
itfith an air of humor in his voice.
Joal looked up to him smiling
while the Insetus seemed somewhat dis-
"What is it Palan?" he asked no-
ticing the boys distress.
"I was wondering.. . I was wondering
when we change barracks will I be able
to keep Munif?" He held llunif, a lit-
tle beast looking like a dragon with
wings, in his hands.
"Of course, you can keep him.
Where else xreuld poor llunif go on this
planet," the Eisterion answered, but
then added, "But to keep him in your
room you are going to need an agreement
slip from your new roommate." He turn-
ed to Joal. ■ "Joal, do you x/ant to sign
it now or later?"
The boys eyes met in a happy but
"I'll sign it noxir, Sir. . Palan,
we'll be rooming together, just you,
llunif, and me!" Joal said excitedly
while putting an arm around his com-
In the ■ days that f olloxred the boys
moved from their open bay barracks to
their new rooms for they xrere now Ceti
Guardsmen. They would soon be working
right along side; a Taul Ceti Legion-
naire learning his ways while serving
Joal and Palan had been attracted
to each other from the start and their
friendship grew in the days that fol-
When they returned to their room
at night they would talk of the con-
quests their Legionnaire's had perform-
ed in far ax^ay galaxies. They xreuld
talk of the dreams they had for their
own lives. They made a vox/ to each
other never to be separated no matter
■ where the Taul Ceti xreuld take them.
On Earth a simple but x-rtiole heart-
ed ceremony was taking place in the
mid-Atlantic Ocean. Assorted digni-
taries along xtfith some press had ga-
thered to xd.tness the sinking of many
military ships heavily laden with wea-
pons, most of which xrere the menacing
nuclear bombs. It xras a ceremony filled
with much rejoicing as each ship went
down sloxtfly at first then nose-diving
and sinking quickly into the ocean
depths.- There were acts such as this
going on everywhere. Military bases
xrere being torn doxro, armories xrere be-
ing emptied, and military air and gro-
und equipment was being dismantled. All
of this was being sponsored by the DAWS
Treaty. There xrould be world peace.
• Joal was standing duty that day as
he did every fifth day of the month.
This particular day he xras standing duty
at the Taul Ceti Fleet Station having
been assigned some simple tasks at the
docks. One of which xras to get a Stel-
Joy Ride (cont'd)
Joy Ride (cont'd)
ler Cruiser ready for a patrol. He was
checking out some of the controls when
Palan joined him.
"Hello Joal, pulling the duty
again?" Palan asked.
"Yes. I've got to get this crui-
ser ready for a patrol by mid-morning,"
Joal stated while eyeing Iiunif , the
little beast crawling about his com-
panion's shoulders. "I'm almost fi-
nished... I've just got to take her out
for a navagational check. Do you want
to come along?"
"Yes... that is if it's all right?
You won't get in any kind of trouble
for having me aboard, will you?" Palan
asked a little uncertainly.
"Not unless you say I kidnapped
you!" he teased. "Come on Palan, this
will be fun."
"All right, if you're sure it's
"I'm sure," he said while helping
Palan aboard the vessel. "Besides,"
he added, "this ship is much easier to
operate with a second controlman. "
The boys climbed into the ships
seating themselves on either side of
the control center. They proceeded to
get the cruiser underway. Joal start-
ed the ship with an incredibly loud
hissing, roaring, rumbling sound.
Palan 's eyes widened and he said
to his little pet, "This is going to
be some ride Kunif, you better hang on
Iiunif made a kind of chirping so-
und as if able to understand him.
"What do you mean," Joal stated.
"I ifas one of the best in flight train-
With those words the cruiser de-
parted at an astonishing speed. Joal,
however, was able to get the vessel
under control after a few seconds.
"There now that wasn't so bad,"
Joal said i^hile glancing over at Palan
xiho looked a bit ill. "You all right?"
"As soon as my heart returns to
my chest. I think it's somexihere on
the ceiling, " Palan said half teasing
half serious, while Iiunif made strange
high chirping sounds as if scolding
The two boys broke into laughter
and Joal asked in the most respectable
voice he could muster, "Where would
you like to be escorted to, Sir?"
Palan, amused, deepened his voice
as best he could and answered; "Once
around the galaxy should be sufficient,
"Here we go," Joal said as he ac-
celerated the ship nearer to top speeds.
"Do you have on your deflector
shields? I don't want to collide with
any stars. "
"Of course they're on. You wo-
uldn't believe how fast this cruiser
can go. 1/atch this," Joal said x>rhile
pnsjiin.'T t)m nhxp fo <m/<vk factor .•:/v-o«i i . ,*
"Joal aren't we supposed to be
checking the navigation system?"
"Gosh, I almost forgot... hey the
navigator's not working!" Joal said
while slowing the ship down suddenly to
a Celt-snails pace.
"You're lucky to have brought me
along," Palan said while rising from his
seat knowing what must be done next.
"I'll get us back. I know this galaxy
like the back of my hand."
He placed some maps out on a coun-
ter and turned the surveying screen to
estimate where they were. He quietly
viewed the maps while Joal observed
from a distance.
"Lords of Celt!" Palan finally ex-
claimed. "I can't believe how far out
we are . "
Iiunif bristled at his yell, while
Joal moved closer for a better look.
"We are here," Palan said itfhile
pointing to a spiral galaxy no more
than fifteen million light-years from
their own. "I'll manually reset the
navigational system , " he said while pro-
ceeding to do the task.
"I really had this ship moving, "
Joal said then added, "Say, I've never
been out this way before. What would
you think of a little exploring?"
"Well, maybe just for a little
while," Palan answered, his curiosity
getting the best of him.
"This is fun," Joal remarked while
adjusting the surveying screen to ob-
serve anything that might be worth ex-
"Now here is something interesting, "
Joal said spotting a solar system in
the huge screen.
"I'll adjust the soom and pull it
into focus. Will you look at that gi-
ant gasseous planet," Joal said labile
further adjusting the screen.
"There's another one and it's red
...there's seven... nine planets and one
is blue like Celt."
"It is," Palan remarked. "Only it
looks almost completely covered with
itfater and there seems to be some kind
of strange haze around it... or is it
glowing from it? I wonder what that
"I don't know. ..Say that planet
would make a perfect target. Do you
think you could drive an energy bolt
between those land masses on it?" Joal
"I'm sure I could, but there's
probably some type of life on it and I
wouldn't itfant to hurt anything."
"Since when did an energy bolt
ever hurt anything living?"
"That's not what I meant, Joal, I
mean hurting by changing the environ-
"I'll bet you're just not sure of
your aim, " Joal said with a hint of sar-
casm in his voice.
Palan 's eyes met his as he said,
'We'll Fee who has the be iter aim, You
fire first- "
Joy Ride (cont'd)
"All right," said Joal while he
adjusted the blue planet to the center
of the screen.
He aimed firing two energy bolts
into the Pacific Ocean. The bolts hit
near the coast of California causing a
most amazing effect on the Earth, but
impossible to notice from the ship.
Jhen the bolts hit the coast as if
by some magical force it lit up like a
Christmas tree even though power had
been out since the war. Boats in the
harbors suddenly started, dormant
lighthouses suddenly went frantic send-
ing their beams everywhere, and bridges
began functioning for no apparent rea-
son. Electrical appliances began
working without any electricity. Cof-
fee pots were percolating, toasters
were toasting, blenders were blending,
and microwave ovens were cooking.
"Not a very good hit," Palan com-
mented xtfhile taking aim on the center
of the Atlantic Ocean.
The energy bolt hit the water
spreading an energy field that affected
everything in reach including a ship
load of nuclear bombs lying on a fault
of the Atlantic floor.
The effects were catastrophic.
The boys watched in awe as the Earth
cracked open like an egg, spilling its
contents into the atmosphere, while
losing its gravity, letting go of its
moon, and casting its oceans and seas
into space. After what seemed to be
hours the only remnant left x^as an
asteroid belt made up of Earthen rock
and ice revolving where the Earth had
... There would nev.er again be war on
* * * * *
She Calls Collect
She sings demands a thousand miles
such hollow notes.
ears bust from listening
Just answer her questions
No need to talk.
Fat flabby folds
hang from her arms.
Veins burst open her legs
Ankles, blown baloons -
toes torn crooked.
Her breasts over belly over belly.
just so much skin.
those beady eyes
and frizzy yellow hair.
body always ailing
but mind not slipping
thoughts cascade like
water down a damn.
Cooks for days
lobster to quiche
to inatzoh, to pie.
She Calls Collect (cont'd)
A good jew.
Talks of those she once knew
Introduces herself to those
most friends have died
A friend of Freidan
A giver to NOW.
Campaigned for Kennedy.
writes her senator daily
the N.Y. Times her only lover,
front to back each day.
her vocabulary extensive,
her vision afar.
Her family she treasures
A black El Camino passed through
an opening in a high limestone wall
just as the sun was beginning to peek
over the horizon. The shiny mini-truck
threaded its way around a crazily wind-
ing road, arriving at a long black-
topped snake that stretched through
miles of flat, black earth. After a
few miles, that flat earth became
crowded with rows and rows of tall
The occupants of the vehicle were
a gray-haired man in coveralls with a
few too many inches girth, and a thin,
wiry, sleepy-eyed younger man of about
thirty- five. They traveled in silence
for quite a while and then the older
began to speak, almost as if his son
"Comes a time in a man's life
when he's got to get out from under all
those dreams he had when he was a young
man. Face up to the real world. Hake
your peace with it and try to get along
as best you can. "
The younger man didn't answer
right away. He wondered what motivated
the old man to say what he had. Why
was he, all of a sudden, talking about
dreams? What did dreams have to do with
It soon became clear to the son
what his father was doing. The old \naft
was trying to shake him loose again.
He was nervous, didn't know what to sar
to his son, and so, started in on his
worn-out monologue regarding the merits
of down-to-earth thinking. It disturbed
the young man, as it always did, being
v7 tb& dafenstim this way, but he
Strawberry Season (cont'd)
Strawberry Season (cont'd)
was determined not to get angry. He
was determined not to get into the same
old argument that never got anywhere.
"Didn't you have any dreams x^hen
you were young, Dad?"
"Sure. Had lots of 'em . . . lots
of 'em. I don't think about 'em much
any mores. Don't do no good. They
ain't time fer 'em. Got to go about
livin'. Aint no time for dreams."
"Why xTOuld anyone want to give up
his dreams just because there's no time
for them? A man's got to make time.
Make time for them to happen too.
There's got to be something to hope for,
else, what's the point of living?"
"Well, I guess that comes a not
ever havin ' ta want for anythin ' . They
that's never had to break their backs
to feed a housefulla kids just caint
'preciate what it means to haft a give
up somma them dreams. Ya gotta sacri-
fice in this world, son . . . give up
somethin 1 ya wants, and prob'ly'll
never get anyways, for somethin' ya
gotta have ta live.
"Lookit me. Worked at the John
Deere all these years just like my Dad
before me. la think that's what I
wanted when I x*as young? Nossir. I 'da
liked to finish high school, but I had
to help at home. Had to go to work .
"Here it comes," thought the son.
Now he was going to have to listen to
"Turn on the radio, will you Dad?"
Clarence Eversmann reached doxra to
the dial and turned it clockwise. His
sixty-five-year-old hands were sprinkl-
ed with liver spots and hardened with
callouses. He had wanted to talk more
to his youngest son, but, evidently,
to buy them. What good w&re they? Cla-
rence couldn't understand why the kid
hadn't given up in all this time — he
was thirty-five years old! He ought to
have come out of that cloud he'd fluffed
up for himself in the air. What was
wrong with kids today? Clarence knew
the answer to that question, of course
— kids today just had things too easy.
They never had to worry about where the
next meal was coming from. When Clarence
was young, he'd never had time for what
these fancy pants psychiatrists called
"psychoses." He'd been too busy helping
to support his dad's family and then
gone on to support his own. That's what
these kids needed — to get their hands
dirty, some good hard work; keep their
idle minds busy.
Billy drew a deep puff on his ciga-
rette and watohed the. smoke swirl inside
the car. He wondered why Dad had to
start harping at him today. Couldn't he
see that it never got anywhere? Wasn't
Dad ever going to learn that this oft-
repeated conversation was a stalemate
from the beginning? No, Billy thought,
Dad would never change. He'd just keep
ploiiring the same rut year after year. It
was a shame, somehow. Billy wondered if,
when Dad died, he'd go out of this world
happy, if that narrow world of his were
really enough for him.
"Dad . . . are you happy?"
"Well noxtf, what kind of a fool ques-
tion is that? 'Course I'm happy."
"Why are you happy, Dad?"
"Well now, why shoudn' I be? I
worked hard all my life. I raised five
healthy kids, gave 'em all the best I
could. Had the sweetest little woman on
Billy didn't want to talk. Billy never earth for a wife, God rest her soul, and
wanted to talk to him about anything
important. Whenever Clarence tried to
talk about the only sensible way to
live in this world, Billy just changed
the subject or walked away or created
a diversion of some kind. Today it was
the radio. It was always something,
now I'm retired, I got a nice little gar-
den to take care of, a roof over my head,
no bills ta speak of. I don't want for
nothin'. I pret' near do everythin' I
want to. '/hat more could' anybody ask?"
That was it. The sum- total of Cla-
rence Eversmann 's life: What more could
They just never could talk. They lived anybody ask! Take what you worked for
in two unrelated worlds.
"How could it have happened?"
Clarence asked himself. "This son who
came from somewhere inside his body.
He might just as well have been a
He'd always been a stranger.
Billy was never like his brothers and
sisters. Clarence knexf he was dif-
ferent right off the bat. The kid
didn't mix well; he didn't talk much;
stayed so much to himself daydreaming
his life away. And then, those schools
put all those high-falutin' ideas into
his head. The kid wanted to write.
and be happy with what you got. Was that
the key to life? It troubled Billy. He
thought that he'd been cheated out of his
Dad's simplicity. It bothered him greatl r
that Dad could be content xri.th what seemed
like so little to him. Billy x-zanted des-
perately to be content. He wondered —
xrorried — that he never would be. Hox*
did Dad learn to be happy? How did any-
"Billy, did I ever tell you about thf
time I lost a whole paycheck playin' poke: ]
"Yes, Dad, many times."
"Well, ya see, there was this time
xjhen Jacob Ettinger started ta bra^oin 1 jxJ
Write! Imagine! And he didn't want could beat us all outta our pants an' t,-_
to write for a newspaper and make some figgered we'd jus' show him a thiiig or
money with his writing. No — he two ..."
wanted to write books, had already Billy's mind drifted. His eyes em-
x^ritten three or four, and those sat, braced the cool, pink, morning sky. It
h,\no i\*ll ,^<'.hi tip- ,?fj.--£. M>£v>4j r '" fxzrt-t&d. jawxld ?v> Ih~>1 toihiy mid f.he
Strawberry Season (cont'd)
fresh, untouched as yet by the cruel
heat of summer afternoon sun. There
weren't many cars on the road and that
was nice. They had the whole world to
themselves. The corn in the fields
itfas tall and green and wet with dew.
The moist, black earth teemed with un-
seen activity. That black Iowa earth,
those green rows of August corn, that
shimmery pink and blue sky! It was a
shame they had to get anywhere. Billy
thought he might have been able to ride
in the car forever. But they x-rere go-
Billy thought about the straw-
berries that Dad used to grow behind
the house and how Mike and Dorothy and
Alice and Virginia and he would race to
that patch after a rain s noire r and
pluck the big, wet berries off the
vines and plop them into their mouths
as though the strawberries would never
end. He wished he could do it right
now. His mouth watered as he imagined
himself biting into one. He remembered
the giggles of all the kids out back
behind the house, their fingers stain-
ed red, their mouths dripping. And
then they'd argue about who had eaten
the most. The fights and the giggles
were constant. He missed them — the
giggles, the fights, the kids, the
strawberries. Host of all, he missed
being a child. Hissed it sorely. He
ached now with an impossible pain.
"Dad . . . Dad . . .,".he pleaded
silently. "Where did it all go? How
did it get away so quickly? What hap-
pened to all your brown hair? And the
tonic you used to put on it? What hap-
pened to the years?
"You never think about them, do
you? You go back only to relive pieces
of time that you've repeated so many
times, they no longer have any meaning
to you. Remember the strawberries,
"Remember the August afternoon I
tried out Dorothy's rollerskates and
sprained my arm? Remember the rain
that sprayed the yard that day? I can •
still smell it in the grass. I can
still feel the sunshine drying my hair.
I remember wearing Hike's jeans to play
baseball with you in the empty field —
I had to roll them up what seemed like
a dozen times. Mike was so tall then.
He had such a big Adam's apple in his
scrawny neck. Would you have watched
him any more carefully then, if you
had known that the man he was growing
into would be the same one itfho was
later to crash ehad-on into that semi?
Would you have studied him more closely?
Memorized him, maybe?
"Do you remember any of the lit-
tle things, Dad? Like Mom not drying
any of the dishes because. Alice had
told her that dishtowels were full of
germs — she'd learned that in a bio-
"God, Dad, what happened to Mom?
What happened to the brawn axaFcrds -^rid
jihite anklets thnt were Mom? What
Strawberry Season (cont'd)
happened to the brown strands of hair
flecked with flour that was Mom? Mom,
whose skinny, freckled arms were for-
ever in- long sleeves that were rolled
up. Mom, whose calf-length skirts
were always covered by an apron. What
happened to Mom? She passed in and
out of our lives so quickly that we
hardly had time to know her . . .
Clarence had finished the Jacob
Ettinger story and looked over at his
son. Billy's mind was a million miles
away. His face was contorted and his
cheeks were wet with tears.
"Poor Billy," Clarence thought.
"Poor Billy. We're never gonna git
together. We're never gonna make it."
Clarence's heart ached for him. He
wondered where all the pain came from
that tortured his boy. This kid was
brought up just like all the rest.
None of the others had problems. Cla-
rence would never understand Billy.
He'd tried, God knows, he'd tried,
but Clarence figured maybe he just
wasn't smart enough to understand,
never would be.
"I ... I ... I wanna go back."
"Back to the hospital?"
"Yeah . . . I . . . can't go home
today. I can't. I'm sorry Dad, I'm
"It's okay, boy. It's okay."
Clarence leaned across the seat and
put his arms around his son. He
gave him a quick, tight hug and then
straightened himself back into the
driver's seat. It was all he could
think of to do.
"I'm sorry Dad. "
"It's okay. One a these weeks
we're gonna make it all the way home.
An' when we do . . . well, when we do,
why we're jus' gonna stay there for-
"Could we stop somewhere and get
some strawberries on the way?"
* >}c * 5^ sjs
Nancy Wife of John II
I hear her ghostly xtfhisper
moan from her sodded cell.
It comes noxtf louder, crisper
she learned her lesson well.
"He took it all my daughter
and isn't it a shame.
He led me to the alter
he even stole my name. "
Exuberance comes easy standing on your head.
The simple pleasure calms the senses;
numbs the muscles as if you were dead.
In the subconscious trance nerve tensions release;
heartbeat slows down approaching utter peace.
Hallucinations float in the retina of your eye.
The universe expands and then contracts;
until all knoxtfledge of the cosmos makes you high.
An aura mystically protects the exhilarating soul;
Cross your legs, say a chant, and fulfill the goal.
This Child Heed Her Father
This child need her father, oh yes she do,
after all the hell and war she's been through,
when a father was needed it was nobody there,
nobody to comfort her, and nobody to care,
when she i^as doxtfn and full of doubt,
she reach out for her dad but he was out ,
He's still out and he's gone forever,
one day with God help we'll be together,
she has "hope" you see,
and Right Now she needs her daddy.
She needs so bad there at home,
right there with her where he belong,
When she talks to him on the phone,
she starts to cry,
And I know he's beginning to wonder why,
The reason for that is she miss him so much,
and the phone call is the only thing to keep
them in touch,
Yes, she know things aren't the same, unless
he comes back there's more to change,
I would talk like to talk about Horn,
But I not gonna bother.
Because this child needs her father.
* >|: >j; * sfc
Colleen J Moloney
What To Do?
What do you do when you're empty?...
Jackson has stolen my heart-
without really knowing.
Pat is pulling on my arm...
pick you up at 5:°0 ° r 5: 30?
Chrissy steals all ray hugs...
which she desperately needs.
What am I when everyone has a part of me?...
just a lost lonely soul
I need to be a whole- I need all my parts.
Giving is a wonderful pleasure- but if you
receive nothing in return you are drained-empty.
and . . .
What do you do when you're empty?
It's Laundry- Roundup Time
It's laundry- roundup time
at the Bar B Corral:
gotta get the clothes washed
for another week of dirt,
so I can wash era again
well, you get the picture.
Gotta ferret out the herd —
- these .animals^.hide. in. strange, places: .
Socks under the couch,
-• • ■• under a chair,,
in a crack in the wall;
Jeans in the john
under the hair
that was trimmed
from somebody's head
last Tuesday —
Gotta get em together somehow
and brand em
with "NSW 1 ' and "IMPROVED"
which may or may not be the high-oriced spread
"X, the Unknown!"
Gotta suds these duds
til they're red, white or green,
fresh and clean,
ready to wear and tear.
Get out the grease;
get out the mud;
get out the stains;
but first —
I gotta get out the lead.
Just about once a month Dear Ab-
by runs a letter in her column from a
half-crazed wife complaining that her
other-wise cherished husband is snor-
' ing her to death. For me that is a
blessed sound, a sure indication that
my beloved hubby is not going to be
up to his nocturnal antics.
Frankly, I wonder at times just
how a nice girl like me got stuck id.th
a man whose brain works a Zk hour
shift. At night the most work my
mind does is to dream about ardent
lovers, two weeks vacation with maid
service and no kids, or finding Alad-
din ' s lamp with the lid and three
wishes still intact.
Ily husband, on the other hand,
becomes a sleep walking and talking
Steve Martin; a solver of world prob-
:. lems like Kissinger; even an adven-
turous pirate, or in general, a stran-
ger in the darkness of our bedroom.
Over the years the stranger has
not awakened me so often and I have
learned a few things about his nature.
One thing for sure, he is completely
unaware of what he does in his sleep.
In fact he thought I was crazy til
his mother verified that indeed it
was a problem even in bin ear-Ty tsbxld-
brw?uL The second thing is; ho only
Z's Please (cont'd)
does it when he is worried or upset
One night, not long after our
honeymoon, I gently slid into bed with
my sleeping husband only to be startled
as he reached out for me and pulled me
gently into his arms.
"Do you love me?" I asked quite
sure he was still awake and had been
waiting for me.
"Sure do." was his quiet reply.
"How come?" the anxious new bride
asked, hoping for a dissertation of her
"Because somebody has to." was his
reply as he patted my head like a pup-
py dog and began to snore.
A few nights later I was rudely
awakened by a jabbing finger in the
middle of my back.
"This is a stick-up. "
"Huh?" I said, not sure if I was
"This is a stick-up. " he repeated.
"Give me all your money. "
"You have all my money. "
"I do?" he said quite seriously.
"Ok. " .
And with that he laid the danger-
ous gua. finger on his chest and began
the deep snore T was beginning to wel-
come at night.
Usually I am the sole witness to
^ ?».>.-.- &ch*&irbixr<&s t ^tri: once while visit-
Z's Please (cont'd)
ing my in-laws my husband decided to
give a speech around three a.m. There
he stood in T-shirt and jocky shorts in
the hall giving the most elegant rags
to riches speech. The speech lasted
all of thirty minutes at which he ended
with a bow and several thank-yous to
the audience (Horn, Dad, and I). He even
went back to bed all on his ox-jn, still
nodding his head and smiling to the
I have tried just about everything
the experts suggest to cure his night
time adventures. Even waking him up
doesn't work because he just starts all
over later on that night. Getting to
the root of the problem isn't easy, be-
cause even the most minor problems, me
forgetting to pick up his favorite shirt
at the laundry, or a call from his not
so favorite mother-in-law, can set him
Today, he came home and announced
over dinner that he was having prob-
lems at xrork.. . .something that he just
had to work out on his own. I announced
that my daughter and I had been invited
out of town for the next two nights to
visit my sister. Give me a man that
snores any night!
If you don't have anything to say
besides conceited talk,
pie in the sky talk,
boorish talk, „ *
play with my head talk,
then don't say anything.
>Jc >£ if; sjs >Jc
I am a convict
locked inside myself forever.
My mind says one thing
my heart always another.
I would like to be beautiful and maybe even a star,
But I cannot for I am plain and just me.
I would like to go overseas,
sail in oceans, fly in the sky,
But I have not the transportation,
for this body that binds me.
When people see me they don't
They see the face, the eyes, and hands that
They are looking at my own jailer.
And very few people
will I let look in,
let past my skin,
to the real me.
Yes, I am a lifer
Locked inside myself.
jU ;», ;t; ; t- jt.
is worn and old
and all the thoughts that brew
along with all the feelings too,
produce not one thing new,
or so I'm told:
>$: 5jc >Jc sj: >\i
Margie and I ire re having lunch to-
gether in a restaurant one day ifhen the
conversation turned to an evaluation of
local bars and their respective patrons.
"1 like to drink where people are
real, " said Margie*
"What is real?" I asked.
"Well, it certainly isn't at a
place like the Chaz Club where every-
body tries to outdo each other with fan- ••
cy disco clothes and phony conversations."
"Maybe so, " I said.
"And I hate Fred's and Ray's be-
cause all anybody ever goes into those
places for is a piece of ass."
"I beg your pardon."
"You know what I mean. Every guy
that goes into Fred's or Ray's thinks
every check that enters is just dying
to jump into bed with the first hot
"I don't believe that — and I've
been in both places millions of times."
"Well, I never met a guy in either
place who didn't have sex on his mind
and that x^ras his prime motive for being
"C'mon now — it's like that
EVSRYplace. I'd say sixty to eighty
percent of all people who go to any
bars — and I'm speaking of 'singles' —
are looking for, if not sex, at least
some kind of relationship."
"Well, I'm not looking for sex.
I'm looking for a husband. I've been
divorced for three years nox>r and I'm
lonely. That's why I go to Jimmy's
Place. The people — the guys — are
just there to drink and have a good
time. They're not threatening."
"You're not gonna tell me that the
guys who go into that place are all there
to chat and laugh and that's it. C'mon
. . . I've been in there -- and they're
just as horny there as they are anywhere
else, " I said.
"But they know me there. They know
I'm not there for a quick screw. I feel
safe, because the people there are just
down-to-earth types who don't try to be
something they're not."
"Those down-to-earth types include
"Sure. Renegades come in once in
a while. But they don't bother anybody.
They sit at one end of the bar and
everybody else sits at the other.
There's never any trouble. Why are you
always picking on them anyway? Some of
the Renegades are all-right guys."
"Not in my book. They're criminals
— punks who think that belonging to a
motorcycle gang whose members assault
the rest of the x-rorld makes them men.
They're sickening, filthy pigs who'd
just as soon beat you up as look at you. ""
"You never met any. You don't
"You can't judge all of them by a
"Yes I can. I can think anything
I damn well please."
The discussion stalemated there.
Neither of us would budge on our pre- '
judices, so we sat silently for a
xtfhile and then began to talk of other
Two weeks later my sister called
to tell me that an ex-boyfriend of hers
had been stabbed outside a bar by two..
members of the Renegades gang (or
"club", if you will). Frank had a
punctured kidney and wasn't expected
The next time Margie and I were
together, I told her about it. She'd
already heard the story, but since my
sister hadxritnessed the stabbing, I
had inside information to give.
"Frank's a loud-mouth. He's al-
ways bad-mouthing the Renegades. He
should knox/ better than to say anything
when they're around," she said. "He
probably provoked it . "
"I don't doubt that," I said.
"But is that any reason he should have
to die? What kind of a world is it
xfhere you have to be afraid to say
something for fear you'll be stabbed?
Frank xrasn't carrying any x^reapon. He
was very drunk at the time. And so —
because he got drunk and said something,
he's probably going to die. If that's
the way things are, I xrant off this
planet and I xrant off noxjj "
Margie repeated her bit about how
the Renegades came into Jimmy's Place
all the time and there xfas never any
trouble. Margie is the one xfho changed
her story; I didn't alter it. At that
first conversation, she had said that
the Renegades came in "once and a xtfhile."
Noxtf she xfas saying, "all the time."
"People just have to learn to mind
their own business," she said.
"When a man is stabbed, it is
everyone's business. to. see that the
person or persons xtfho did the stabbing
is/are removed from society. Killing —
or attempting to kill — is almost
never justified. I don't go around
killing people who disagree x^ith me and
I expect everyone else to give me that
same respect. "
"Jell, Frank didn't respect them
when he said xfhatever it was he said to
"Maybe not, but xrords are a hell of
a lot different than knives! I can't
believe you're saying this. Those Rene-
gades are uncivilized animals."
"That's not very charitable, you
"Death — or near-death — adds a
"That's right. And I don't par-
ticularly xtfant to either. And I
wouldn't .<~o around bx'aggijig aivMii it if
new dimension to charity. There's no
excuse for taking another person's life."
This conversation also came to a
standstill. Margie couldn't convince me
and I couldn't convince her. Since we
both knew that neither of us was x^illing
to make airy concessions on this issue,
we progressed into an area of discussion
that we knew was also a dead-end issue
— that of capital punishment. We must
both have felt like arguing, because we
know how we feel about capital punish-
ment and we also know that we'll never
change each other's minds. I guess it
was a needling session. She proceeded
to say that John Gacy should be strung
up by the balls and I have her my old
bit about murderers needing psychiatric
help, or at least study, to prevent, or
try to prevent, such acts from being re-
peated. Our discussions on the topic
become nauseating through endless re-
petition and no points scored ever with
one or the other of us.
Weeks later, Frank was in satis-
factory condition and was expected to
be sent home soon. I thought maybe I
was too harsh on Jimmy's Place. I
don't know — maybe imminent death
colors my judgments and with the threat
gone, felt a bit safe. I'm not sure
what motives I had in mind when I pul-
led up outside Jimmy's after spotting
Kargie's car at the corner.
It was near closing time when I
For those of you who are unfami-
liar with closing time at bars these
days, let me digress for a moment.
Lights flicker or bells are rung. The
bouncers, or, as in the case of Jim-
my's Place, the owner and bartenders
keep shouting, ""Je gotta gol" Host
patrons are drunk, high, or both. For
some, it is 'panic time': Grab a guy
or a girl in the few minutes that are
left. There is much noise, but there
is no music. The bands have finished
playing or the jukeboxes have been dis-
connected. The noise is human. People
are laughing, yelling, talking, finish-
ing up the last of their drinks. There
is much moving around. There are those
who stand outside the bars or sit on
sidewalks. Some talk. Others are
couples beginning what they intend to
complete later in an apartment or in a
car. It is a fascinating scene, really
— all these inebriated people being
slowly, but surely, rounded up and cor-
ralled out. One hears protests here
and there: "I'm going
ing, " or "I just want to finish this
and I'll go." Bartenders, owners and
bouncers all have the same deadpan,
bored look borne of the tedium of end-
less nights of emptying out their bars.
This was the situation when I ar-
rived at Jimmy's. Several motorcycles
were parked near the entrance. Guys
in sleeveless denim jackets stood in
clusters outside the door. I saw two
with knives stuck in their belts. The
word, "fuckin" was very big in their
vocabularies — it issued from prac-
tically every mouth. It seemed to be
sprinkled between every other word.
An example: "Ya know Tirhat fuckin
happened on my way fuckin here?"
"Some fuckin ..." etc. The
word stuccoes the night, blends in with
no apostrophes and no particular notice.
I noticed. I also noticed guys reliev-
ing themselves in bushes and at the
sides of vans.
I walked inside, stood at the bar
for about a minute and decided to leave.
Ilargie was hanging on ■ some guy I didn't
know and I felt completely out of place
— not being drunk at closing time can
do that to you.
Outside again, motorcycles were
revving, cfisscrpssing .each dther in
the intersection and pulling^up onto
the sidewalk. One guy had a bottle of
beer in his teeth as he drove away.
This might have looked like great fun
if the participants in the spectacle
had been halfway decent looking, but
they weren't. There were a lot of tat-
tooes around me — I associate tattooes
with Richard Speck and Perry Smith. I
can associate tattooes with sailors too,
but knives in belts sort of eliminate
If I were to have let my imaginaO
tion run a little bit farther, I could
have envisioned fleas in the beards and
armpits of these guys and in just the
armpits of their girlfriends. I be-
lieve I could even have envisioned the
girls with beards if I'd tried. I'm
doing it now. "Sleazy" is the word —
no, I think it was "scum" that came to
mind . . . very judgmental of me, I
I think I discovered that absence
does not always make the heart grow
fonder and that, familiarity in "this
case, however minimal, does breed con-
Sorry, i'argie. I hope you find a
husband, but I'm never coming back to
Jimmy's, and I'll worry about you, know-
ing you're there three or four nights a
week. But I'd rather do my drinking
with "phonies" and "guys with one thing
on their minds. "
The Geese Make Lines In The Sunset Sky
The geese make lines in the sunset sky
in the wavering strung out way they fly
My heart longs to join their flight
To leap up and go — to fly all night
Until I reach some warm island, or Hexico
with a shining red dawn. Damn! I'd go
in twenty seconds if I had the wings
To fly me — and there were no strings
or reasonings to bind me home
To culture, propriety — I can't go roam
The- skies with geese. I'll stay
here and sigh, again. Someday.
Poetry Pour le Bain
the words are fine,"
they said itfith bathtub grins.
I watched her splash some sonnets
as he splattered out an epic verse.
They sprayed the room with anapests
and bawdy limericks too.
They sprinkled quatrains on the floor
until there was "poetry, poetry everywhere."
And I stood there
wishing I had the nerve
to Ret my feet wet.
"Gotta get home
cause my meter reader's comin
and I haven't let him in for months."
Incredible four digit word idea.
A millennium of segments pass in a flash,
as a moment approaches infinity yet
Fever quite reaches its destination;
Ahead and beyond the void of length.
Expected to pierce the minds navigation.
Suggesting a course through uncharted realms;
Animal instincts lost in confusion, for
Splices of energy combine too late;
Different conditions never conform.
Electro-mechanical vibrating pulse.
Indicator iirith meaningless system of record
Advancing a theory of unrest repetition, when
Applied on call by man, and put aside when non-
conforming to false manipulation^
Relative motiomiibnfour dimensions.
Beyond definition of set word progression;
Encompasses all that one could imagine as
an endless conve^r of insignificant pz"&&&ti± ^iri.i.-l.^^
Waiting to be l->undl&d. into a ecmposite past.
Ho nky- Tonkin Rhythm
Honky-tonkin rhythm —
fast or slow,
here I go
movin with the music.
sway in to the beat —
here I go;
keep the flow a comin
all night, all right, all night long.
crankin out a tickled tempo —
grindin at the ivories in my spine. .
I'm in the hands
of hypnotizin, tantalizin,
that thrumble through my skin —
Do it again,
Here I go
all night long.
$: >fc :fc sjs J/z
I make ewer of a tide — it idea.
For reek over dams , drown I. Dud.
Alias sign I tail.
I'm , uh , frustrated art ;
Sgad 1 Evil I
So shore , vases , aver —
Oh i S.O.S. !
Lived ages ; knit senile ; no trade.
Humiliating is sail — a dud in words.
Err of a edit I edit afore.
T Jeek am I.
J. D. Guse
Ignorance Is Bliss
Contrary to the title, as a young
child living on the newly purchased
farm of my parents, ignorance was not
bliss. Moreover, it was downright
frustrating! As a ten year old from
Chicago I felt quite out of place in
the country. Knowledge was power, so
to speak, and it was easy to see itfhich
farmers were the most knowledgable by
the successfulness of their farms. It
was this very environment that I felt
condemned to a life of perpetual ignor-
ance, constantly chastising myself, be-
lieving that I would never learn.
My neighbor was Fred Doncek. In
'71 , when I met him, I had run the mile
from my house to his in search of
Fred's fresh eggs.
When I arrived I found Fred, faded
overalls like towels on his thin body,
standing before a magestic oak in his
farm yard. Knife in hand, displaying
baldness beneath a green John Deere
hat positioned awkwardly above his left
e&V, Fx'ed cavv^il n vo-rticrlo notch in
Ignorance Is Bliss (c§nt'd)
the bark, oh so carefully, avoiding the
uniform notches he had evidently made
at some time before. In one smoothly
flowing action he closed his knife on
his left leg, leaned his head back,
and spit the excess juice from his chew-
ing tobacco at the notch he had just
made. I felt I was on the set for the
making of the movie "The Life and Times
of Grizzly Adams." I cautiously turned
and looked apprehensively for a black
"Yes, lad, wha' da ya need?"
Off guard, I stammered that I was
the neighbor boy.
"Pleased ta meet ya. " Came the re-
"My mom said I could buy a dozen
eggs here. "
I waited patiently while Fred
limped to the garage with the use of a
gnarly home made cane. It was a minute
or two before he returned, basket in
hand, with the comment, " r Jell let's go
see what we can find. "
I turned and looked behind me,
illustrating so effectively the classic
Ignorance Is Bliss (cont'd)
Ignorance Is Bliss (cont'd)
"Who me?" reply.
"C'mon." he blurted.
A certain urgency filled my thou-
ghts. I found myself running to his
I smelled Fred's tobacco now as we
walked past his rabbit cages tox^ard the
two chicken coops that had seen better
days. A rooster strutted ever so ele-
gantly in the presence of his well es-
tablished haren of hens. Then, with
one agile spin, he claxjed the ground
and repositioned his feathers at the
sight of an intruder.
"Oh, go on." demanded Fred, and
the rooster quickly gathered a few po-
tential mates and scurried off to a cor-
ner of the fenced in area.
"Watch the ground, 'cause some-o-
them hens lays 'em where they wants."
I accurately deciphered his com-
ments lowering my head to watch my feet
as I tripped head first over the thres-
hold of the second coop. Catching my-
self on the far wall of the one room
structure I heard Fred ask, "What hap-
"I tripped." I said.
Fred turned to look, laughed and
said, "lour mama won't know ya if ya
come home smellin' like that."
I glanced down and my eyes reveal-
ed the dreadful sight of fecal material,
from several types of chickens, mashed
into the knees of my once blue jeans.
"Oh boy." I said, as the smell of
manure filled my nostrils.
Fred laughed, again, yet he expres-
sed sincerity in his comments. "T'resa':
up at the house. You see if she can't
do some 'in' for ya. I get the rest-o-
the eggs. "
I itfalked, stiff legged, toward the
door of the building keeping a close
eye on that treacherous first step cal-
led the threshold.
As I robotly paced through the
barnyard towards the gate, I heard, in
the distance, a sound like chickens
laughing along with the echo of Fred's
"'Resa, do some 'in' for this lad,
he got a little dirty in here with th'
"O.KI" came the reply from the
Theresa appeared amidst the iris
and the roses that decorated the en-
trance to her small house. Her glasses
hung lazily off her nose. The curl of
her white hair set nicely against her
pale blue flowered dress as she came
from the house to greet me. Bucket in
hand, she produced a pair of old work
"Here!" she said. "Try these on
while I go get some xtfater in this buc-
Reluctantly, I removed my soiled
jeans for a pair that were probably
older than I was. I quickly drex<r the
clean pants on over ray lower £qt&o
without reali zi :ig T hadn't unfastened
I handed my jeans to Theresa who
in turn placed them in the newly filled
"Come inside and you can call
your mom and tell her what happened. "
I walked inside to find a house
so nostalgic with antiques that my mind
toyed with the idea of hoxv T old the Don-
cek's really were.
"There's the phone." came her con-
With reservation I lifted the re-
ceiver and began to dial.
"How could I explain this one,"
The phone rang; the connection
x\ras made. Before I knextf it mom was
laughing. I was depressed and Theresa
saxj that in my face as I struggled to
keep my pants taut around my waist.
"Tell your mom you can have din-
ner here. "
I relayed the offer and, to my
amazement, my mother agreed.
As I returned the phone to the
hook, I mulled over my present situa-
Here I was in a strange house with
people I didn't even know. And I x^ras
in someone else's pants which, by the
way, weren't at all comfortable. I
suddenly recalled my parochial school
days in Chicago. The police officer,
Officer Friendly of all things, xrould
enter the room and explain for half a
day about the evils of strangers. My
mind focused in on the words "STRANGER
DANGER. " My eyes searched the room I
; was in for security. I barely control-
led my panic.
My mind clicked back to the pre-
sent as Fred entered the house. Inside
the basket he carried was an array of
some two dozen eggs.
The door quickly closed behind
Fred as he asked about my condition.
"Fine." I said.
"Get those eggs off the table
Fredf We're havin' dinner soon."
I heard Fred mutter something.
"Women . . . . " he trailed.
Before another word was said, din-
ner uas on the table and the three of
us were seated. The usual informational
questions were asked. Dinner consisted
of xfhat looked like spaghetti and But-
Being of authentic Italian descent,
I quickly evaluated the dinner and de-
termined that the hostess was not
Italian. Thus, I asked the inevitable
question. " T /hat is this?"
I felt the surprised stare of Fred
at my back as I sought the reply from
"Spaghetti squash." Fred answered.
I decided not to mention anything
about the meal and, as it happened, I
didn't have to. Fred quickly explained
tho background of the spaghetti squash.
"It's just like pumpkins or melons."
After dinner, Fred and I had a
Ignorance Is Bliss (cont'd)
chance to talk while Theresa dried my
now faded jeans.
"My granddaddy had a farm outside
Chicago. He watched the Chicago Fire
off his back porch." Fred began as he
filled his pipe and eased the piece in-
to his mouth. "Said he could read 'is
paper by the light. But he never said
much 'bout it to me; granddad was al-
ways kind-o-quiet. "
"Fred, I saw you cutting something
in the tree out there — what was that
"C'mon outside and '11 show ya. "
Fred moved out of his chair and
waited for me to adjust my borrowed
We walked to the edge of the yard
where Fred explained the reason for
the added notch.
"Ever 'time I catch a critter 'n'
kill it, I make 'nother cut 'n that
oak over there. Then I spit t'bacco
juice on 'er so the tree don't go bad."
"Oh." I said, looking doxfn once
again to notice that the animal was a
headless turtle of considerable size.
"I told my kids that when I die,
I T\ran' 'em to cut that tree down.
She's been here 's long 's I have."
Fred was definite in his speech as he
tugged another breath thru his burned
out tobacco pipe.
"Tour pants are done." Theresa
hollered from the open window in the
I ran so fast to the door that I
almost forgot that my hands were serv-
ing a much more meaningful purpose. I
immediately clawed at the belt loops of
the pants and thus saved myself from
certain ernbarassment. I decided that
walking was much less strenuous.
"The bathroom is by the sink
"Thanks. " I said.
As I came from the bathroom, Fred
had returned to the house and x^as plac-
ing the fresh eggs in old cartons.
"That'll be 'bout a buck," he ..said.
I reached in my pocket to retrieve
the dollar I had put there earlier.
The wet paper served to embarras me.
I gingerly held out the crumpled mess.
Fred laughed, "Seems trouble just
folloitfs you around. -Tell ya what, " he
said. "Next time ya come here bring 'n
extra dollar and ya can pay for the
"Thanks Mr. Doncek. "
"Fred to you." he said reassuring
me with a handshake.
I left the house and cautiously
walked the long mile home.
Over the years, Fred filled my
mind with some 90 years of his experi-
ences. We became good friends, and I
Xiras invited many a time to the couple's
house for dinner.
I regretted going away to college.
I felt that Fred's knox^ledge was better
than anything a school could ever offer
Last year, upon my return home for
the Thanksgiving holiday, I passed
Fred's house and stopped by.
I called for Fred in the barnyard,
and thought they must be visiting their
daughter's family since I heard no ans-
X'jer. I walked slowly past the house
and down the driveway to my car. Some-
thing was different. Looking back once
more, I saw the oak tree was gone.
Who, but Nan, will train animals to kill,
blind goldfinches so they'll sing at His will?
Who boils lobsters till He hears them scream?
Who, but Man, could treat Hen so mean?
Only Man is dreaded by every living thing,
Man, on a throne, calling Himself the King!
There is a blackbird singing in a tree.
Will it fall silent and fly away from me?
As I walk down the forest path, slow,
will the deer flash their tails and go?
A tiger, gone mad from toothache, will attack outright.
A cobra, hard-pressed, will in self-defense fight.
But not a beast, anywhere, will wantonly kill;
'cept^for his family, to get a meal.
Man will go out, armed for His liesure,
and kill anything living, for His pleasure}
There is a rabbit, nibbling at grass low,
will it run, in terror, towards its safe hole?
As I walk by the riverside bank today,
vby do the v&xy fjjzh dart suddenly away?
* ^ sf; jjc >};
(An Attempt at Song Writing)
Honey is the root of all evil
And we ponder if it is legal
Tender as the buck may be
It's still hard cash to me
At the check-out counter the other day
Found out I didn't have enough to pay
So with cheap plastic card I stood in awe
fetching myself steal under the law
Bureaucratic control is gettin' me down
Federal Reserves the crummiest system around
As gold goes up, see the green back fall
Soon it's gonna be worth no thin' at all
nothin' at all
Double menace attacking us now
Taxation ; Inflation ; Holy Cow
They steal from the rich and give to the poor
Don't want Robin Government no more
Trying to survive we make a mild living
Charities come around and expect us to be giving
From standard wage we pay bills for this and that
You'd make more money on the corner passing the hat
Currency's short so I'd think it'd be wiser
To buy a big box spring and become a miser
Where 1 would live would be anyone's guess
Far as possible from the I.R.S.
Everybody knows. . .Everybody knoi\rs...
Everybody knows Robin Hood has got to go
Tell it on the mountain and by the sea
What SHERWOOD FOREST is supposed to be
Free enterprise system in ball and chain
And the pressure today is rockin' my brain
lioulah is everything to me you know
I only wish that I was rollin' in the dough
Rollin' .. .Rollin' .. .Rockin' and Rollin '
There aint no place I'd rather be
But you gotta live in dignity
WORDEATER XXXIII STAFF
For this issue, to get a submission accepted,
three of the above had to vote for acceptance.
For the award winners, only John Stobart is re-
Present manuscripts or cover designs for
Wordeater Number 3^ must be submitted to John
Stobart in room C 1069 by Dec. 18, 1980. Manu-
scripts will not be returned. They nay be anony-
mous. They should be typed.
$25.00 Poetry Award:
$25.00 Prose Award shared by:
For Cover Designs (front and back) $20,00 to:
LOUDMOUTH McKRACKEN SO DECRIES', via J. Stobart,
his representative. The preceeding awards are
for Wordeater 33? this volume. Similar awards
will be granted for future issues.
DEADLINE: WORDEATER 3^ - Dec. 18, 1980
35 - March 6, 1981
36 - May 8, 1981
Thanks to all wlio helped collate.